Renji Reflection
by hu3long2
Summary: Renji and Byakuya are forced to reevaluate their relationship after years in the Sixth Division. ByaRen.
1. Renji Reflection

Title: Renji – Reflection

Characters: Renji, Byakuya (future implied ByaRen, present ByaRen if you squint)

Rating: T

Summary: After his conversation with Matsutmoto in "Matsumoto – Fangirl Counsellor", Renji reevaluates his relationship with his taichou.

Disclaimer: Own no part of Bleach, not even bleach

A/N I thought it was Time to try Something Quieter, not that Renji is ever quiet. Nevertheless, here be quiet cogitation. I hope you find this sweet.

I'm hearing the echo of someone else's fic here, so if anything seems too familiar please let me know.

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_So I ask you now, Abarai Renji, what is Kuchiki Byakuya to you?_

Renji sprawled bonelessly in his chair, lost in a brown study, unseeing eyes fixed on the partition door that separated his taichou's office from his. He had visited Matsumoto after a series of nightmares, the effects of learning of the existence of BL fan-fiction featuring him and Kuchiki Byakuya as the protagonists in romantic relationships. Matsumoto had given him a stern talking-to and proposed that, rather than natter about the fan-fiction, he should revisit his relationship with his taichou. Like an eternal refrain, Matsumoto's words danced in circles through his mind, chasing the looming presence of Kuchiki Byukuya in every significant event of his life. Had Renji no self but the very earliest that _he_ had not somehow cast his shadow on?

_Who am I?_

The facts were easy to marshal. He was Abarai Renji, of the Inuzuri district of Rukongai. He knew no parents, but with his bare hands and strength of will had harvested a family of siblings. When all but one had fallen to Rukongai violence, ireborn/i, his mind reminded him, no longer protected by the mantle of childhood, he had taken the last and brought the both of them to Seireitei to seek a future. Had that been the last resort of strength or of weakness?

And thus had his involvement with Kuchiki Byakuya begun, his remaining family sought by the other from his first awed glimpse of him. No, perhaps earlier, the moment when a frail woman of Rukongai who had abandoned her infant sister had drawn the attention of Kuchiki Byakuya. Or perhaps the very instant of abandonment itself had set in train all future events, and had caught them all up in complex threads as strong as adamant.

The facts were easy, but they kept sliding into personality, emotion, memory and speculation.

He was Abarai Renji, shinigami, fukutaichou of the Sixth Division. He was second-in-command to Kuchiki Byakuya, taichou of the Sixth division. He had begun his true formation in the Eleventh Division, and had been finished at the Sixth Division. With his taichou, he fought in war and patrolled in peace.

He was Abarai Renji, soul-linked to Zabimaru. With blood and grit and will, he had achieved bankai one sunny morning, and in arrogant exultation, like an impetuous child with a new toy, had immediately challenged his taichou. Kuchiki Byakuya had cut him down.

_Ever since Rukia became his sister, you've measured your achievements by his._

Even now, recollecting that first terrifying battle, after so many had passed, Renji shivered. He had, with his own hands, offered his first bankai to his taichou. Now, he realized, Kuchiki Byakuya had accepted and acknowledged the gift, with Senbonzakura Kageyoshi and kazahana scarf. As shinigami to shinigami, as nobleman to aptly named commoner Rukongai dog, he had honoured Renji with the symbols of what he was.

Renji fingered the scarf he kept folded, tucked into his shikahausho. During Kuchiki Byakuya's recovery from Ichimaru Gin's attack in the Fourth Division wards, he had awkwardly tried to give the scarf back, but had met with the rather cryptic reply of, "There are appropriate times and locations for this, Abarai." A second attempt had received a flat, "Do not make me repeat myself, Abarai." Over the years, Renji had pondered these words, but had never arrived at an answer he found satisfactory. With his new insight, he wondered if his taichou meant that the scarf would be returned when its recipient no longer needed to be honoured, because he had achieved greater honours. Was his taichou waiting for Renji to challenge him again? No, not challenge, but to gather the confidence to test himself against his taichou. As he examined this startling idea, he began to feel on firmer ground. Yes, Kuchiki Byakuya had been waiting for Renji's own decision to face him again, to restore the scarf to its original owner.

_You are now aware that there are many measures of power, though you still take him as your standard._

And if he took his measure against his taichou and held his own? Then what? Captaincy, he supposed. He would step into that position with an easy mind. They would be equals and colleagues. Yet Kuchiki Byakuya would still be years ahead in achievement and experience. By that count, so would every taichou selected ahead of him. Renji's lips parted in a silent guffaw. It was a foolish competition, this one based on longevity. In his own time, if he lived that long, he too would be a senior taichou.

Renji straightened abruptly as his thoughts led him past old uncertainties to the one undeniable truth. iHe/i was Abarai Renji, there was no call for him to be Kuchiki Byakuya. A futile effort that, to chase such a will-o'-the-wisp. The shock of the realization twirled him in circles, buffeting his mind with flashes of dizzying clarity, until he finally stopped to face the elephant in the room.

Rukia.

Rukia—the last of his family, taken from him by Kuchiki Byakuya for consolation for the loss of his own. Rukia, whom he had loved, ignored and lost, then regained amid the wreckage that was Aizen's betrayal. Rukia, whom he did not know if he loved with the passion of a man or the protectiveness of a brother. He had been content in his feelings until Matsumoto's terrifying acuity had torn him from comfortable opacity into this maelstrom of questioning.

_I suspect that at times, you almost hate him. He betrayed not only her, but also you by not taking care of the last of the family he had taken away from you._

Kuchiki Byakuya also loved Rukia. With the blinders gone, Renji saw his actions in a new light. A man who felt less, a lesser man, might not have tried so hard, or fought so long. Having chosen one side of an impossible conflict between the laws of Soul Society and the welfare of his sister, Kuchiki Byakuya could not, would not, allow himself to deviate from his chosen path because to do so would demean and dishonour the sacrifice of his sister. Yet, if Rukia had died, that would probably have broken him.

During that time, Renji had loathed him beyond all passion. He had read his decisions as the actions of one who understood clan but not family, justice but not mercy. All his ambivalence towards Kuchiki Byakuya, his resentment, his rage, his worry over Rukia, his determination to support Ichigo, had fueled his drive to bankai. Yet, he recalled the other's subdued hesitation in his sickbed after the tumult, his mild querying of Renji's presence, and his quiet acceptance of Renji's renewed pledge of loyalty.

Now, Renji could not help but wonder, if Kuchiki Byakuya had provided the cast from which Abarai Renji emerged during that lost and estranged period, then what were they now, together? And what could they be, in the future?

_Now the three of you are tied together by even more complex bonds._

He was Rukia's family and her protector. He would fight for her and face any threat for her. He cared for her but he would not cage her. He wanted the best for her, even if it were at his own expense. In some strange dual effect of sound, Kuchiki Byakuya's voice echoed in unison with his thoughts. Renji's lips turned downwards wryly. So that was that, the reason for their competition?

_So tell me, Abarai Renji, what is Kuchiki Byakuya to you?_

Renji felt an unaccustomed soul-deep trembling begin within him. He rested against his chair, his eyelids heavy, limbs exhausted and curiously light-headed, an icy awareness at the back of his mind. So this is what reflection feels like, he thought with rueful derison. There was a sudden clarity and precision to the world as a decades-old knot of hurt confusion dissolved. Abruptly, all the nights of lost sleep converged on him, and he sank deeper into his chair.

A familiar reiatsu tickled his senses then withdrew. After what seemed like an eternity, Renji's lids finally felt limber enough to move. Idly, he noted that it was sunset, then his eyes shifted, and he abruptly hurled himself upright. His taichou was standing at the partition between their offices.

"Taichou, I…," Renji's voice was strangled from embarrassment and shock. There was a moment of silence as each looked at the other. Renji's mind caught up with his senses as he gazed at his taichou with fresh eyes. Now no longer burdened by the weight of his taichou's reiatsu nor by the bitterness of old grudge, he saw a man not much taller than most, with shielded grey eyes, whose fine patrician features were composed in repose but tinged with the faintest wash of sorrow. The arrogance and elegant bearing were stamped in the bone. The kenseikan and scarf he was accustomed to, but it was easy to forget that Kuchiki Byakuya shared the same shinigami uniform with him and it now gave him a start to recognize the familiar dress beneath the captain's cloak. In all, he was not an unpleasing sight. As that thought crossed Renji's mind, a warm pulse began in his abdomen.

Grey eyes searched over Renji's face, while he wondered if his expression reflected his new understanding. The world still felt preternaturally clear to him. Finally, his taichou spoke, "I will assume that we will now see an end to the recent nocturnal disturbances."

Renji was startled for an instant, then flushed dully. The entire Sixth Division knew that Abarai Fukutaichou had awakened the entire barracks for a week of nights with his reiatsu-enhanced shouts. Several of the higher seats had already approached him suggesting a visit to the Fourth Division for his nightmares. He had been exhausted during the day, but had hardly dared to shut his eyes for fear of those nightmares. In sheer desperation, he had thrown himself into training the division and paperwork.

Kuchiki Byakuya prepared to depart. Renji hesitated, then took the plunge. With his head straightened out, there really was no reason to delay this, and every reason to see it through.

"Taichou, I think I will soon be ready to return your scarf to you." His taichou paused in his step, then turned his head briefly. "I await the occasion." At his usual stately pace, he left, trailing the scent of sakura in his wake.

Eyes narrowed, Renji watched Kuchiki Byakuya disappear from sight. What was that lingering reiatsu he had felt in his sleep? How long had his taichou stood at the doorway? With a shrug, Renji picked up his zanpakuto. He had world enough and time to contemplate these questions. For now,

'Oi, sleepyhead, get your ass together. We're training.'

'Fight?' asked the nue hopefully.

'Soon. Promise.'

'Can't wait to whip that prissy flowery ass. About time,' the nue's gruff voice was gleeful with anticipation.

Renji's sharp grin returned. Trust Zabimaru to know him better than he did himself. For now, they would train. And when the dust had settled and he was a newly-minted taichou, who was to say what the future held?

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Omake

"Erm, Rukia, you know, your brother's kind of handsome, isn't he?"

"Oh, Renji, how could you do this to me? After all we've been to each other, oh! Oh!"

"Rukia! No! I… I'm sorry, I didn't mean… what do I do?"

"Just give me first dibs on the kissing photos and we'll call it even."

"…"

"…"

"Rukia!"

Matsumoto in the background, "Squee! We did it!"

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The End, or the Start of a Beautiful Something or Other

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	2. Byakuya Possibility

Title: Byakuya – Possibility

Characters: Renji, Byakuya (ByaRen)

Rating: T

Summary: 2nd part following Renji – Reflection. Byakuya is a man of thought and action.

Warning: SS arc spoilers, angst, fluff, sap, boredom-- can't help the length, it's Byakuya!

Disclaimer: Own no part of Bleach, not even bleach

A/N Kind of Dr. Doolittle-ish. Can't be helped. Heavily inspired by His Freedom, written by simply kim, so once again imitative. Congratulate me or commiserate with me. I've just fallen into a multi-chapter fic.

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_I await the occasion._

Kuchiki Byakuya stepped through the corridors of the Sixth Division, none of his myriad emotions reflected in his customary expression of aristocratic indifference. Chief among them was satisfaction. A seed he had sown years ago had finally come to fruition. Abarai Renji, fukutaichou to his Sixth Division taichou, had, after a long process of growth, abandoned his pursuit of Byakuta' shadow and come into his own.

In all honesty, that seed had been planted almost unknowingly. At that time, he had been too filled with conflict and outrage to understand his action. When his commoner fukutaichou had tuned renegade to save Rukia with his newly-minted bankai, his affronted pride had allowed him no recourse but to face him, defeat him and humiliate him for daring to presume against his noble captain. He had barely remembered unwinding his heirloom scarf and dropping it on his fukutaichou's ravaged form after their duel, muttering some absurd incantation.

Later reflection-- and the past few years for him had been spent on enough reflection to scour away half a century of mere unthinking reaction-- had led him to the conviction that, by some miraculous twist of fate, he had not fumbled in exchanging a priceless scarf for an even more priceless possibility. Abarai was cocksure and brash, and it was only later that Byakuya could bring himself to acknowledge the courage that it took for Abarai Renji, who had been most dispossessed by the Kuchiki, to find the conviction to stand against Kuchiki Byakuya. For that, Byukuya had honoured him, though Abarai had lost the battle that day. It was a tribute not given in honour of a culmination, but to mark an initiation and the weight of the giver's expectation. And so, Kuchiki Byakuya had settled down to watch and await the day Abarai himself came to that realization. Amidst Byakuya's other wrongs during that time of travail, this one deed had sounded a note of grace.

In truth, the Kuchiki Byakuya he had been six decades ago could never have imagined himself in this state of quiet expectation. Not for the likes of Abarai Renji. At their first meeting in the receiving hall of the Shinigami Academy, he already knew as much about Abarai Renji as could be uncovered by his investigators. When he raised his reiatsu, his only intent was to intimidate. He was determined that Rukia, despite her unfortunate origins, would never been dogged by those unsavoury associations attempting to ride on her coattails. To be sure, Abarai was an advanced student at the academy and a shinigami-to-be, but one did not expect character from the dregs of Rukongai. Besides, many entered the advanced class, but few exceeded that early promise. Rukia herself would be trained and observed most closely for any signs of degeneracy.

The early years of the succeeding decades accorded with Byakuya's expectations. He was vaguely aware that Renji had been assigned to the Fifth Division, then transferred to the Eleventh, at which point, he dismissed him from his mind. Nothing promising could come out of Zaraki Kenpachi's motley band of base-born ruffians. Gradually, however, he began to hear reports of an outstanding quartet of shinigami friends rapidly making their way through the ranks, attracting the attention of not only the higher seats but also the captains themselves. Three of them were year-mates, and the fourth had been their senior classman, an unusual occurrence in itself since truly memorable graduates were a rare species. These four had not raced through the academy like Shiba Kaien, Ichimaru Gin or Hitsugaya Toushirou, but the past decades had shaped each of them into a formidable force. All the reports predicted that they were headed for fukutaichou's positions, perhaps higher. Moreover, three of them came from Rukongai, one, unsurprisingly, from the first district Juurinan, but the other two from the highest, most desperate districts. Both were also the more distinctive of the quartet.

A taichou's duties were many and varied, but the transfer of power through succession was the cornerstone of the Gotei 13. The pool of shinigami who achieved bankai was miniscule, and the taichous kept a keen eye on all officers with bankai potential. The fukutaichou and third seat positions were invariably bestowed on such candidates and became a brutal testing and elimination ground for them. Byakuya had already appointed and lost two fukutaichou when he was forced to reluctantly direct his attention once again towards Abarai Renji.

He discovered an Abarai Renji who, despite his disreputable past and deplorable blood, had somehow managed to flourish in the Court of Pure Souls. Byakuya reminded himself that it was the Eleventh Division, after all. But Abarai seemed to have acquired, or refined, the knack of leadership. Something in his rough-and-ready manners endeared him to his subordinates, though his tactics would never work with the more discerning men of the Sixth Division. As for other skills, his zanjutsu was outstanding, followed closely by his hakudo, while his kido was abysmal. He had also acquired a passing competence with paperwork, a necessity, Byakuya reflected, when the three ranking seats did none. At the very least, they needed the paperwork to justify their sake budget. Another nugget of information emerged during his investigation-- Abarai never spoke with Rukia. It appeared that he did comprehend his position.

Thereafter, Abarai Renji no longer escaped Kuchiki Byakuya's purview. When his fukutaichou position once again fell vacant, he judged Abarai sufficiently seasoned to step into it. The boy's reiatsu and finesse had grown enormously, and Byakuya's probing of it sensed a lock about to be sprung. Of course, it could scarcely be compared to that of the scions of the great noble houses, but perhaps someday he might become another Zaraki Kenpachi. At this point in Abarai's career, Byakuya also judged it politic to keep him close at hand. As he climbed the ranks of the Gotei 13, he might presume on his new rank to make an approach to Kuchiki Rukia.

All such considerations were abruptly curtailed soon after. Rukia's arrest, then Aizen's betrayal, disrupted not only the stability of Soul Society but also the even keel of Byakuya's existence. The reins were slipping from his hands not only as Kuchiki Byakuya, but also as Sixth Division taichou. During his daily visits to Hisana's shrine, her image placed him on trial as he continually justified his determination to leave Rukia to the tender mercies of the law. In the division, his fukutaichou, with whom he had established the beginnings of a working relationship, turned withdrawn and taciturn, his brand of familiar and inane chatter evaporating. His men looked at him in askance, though he had not cared to pursue the reason then. Only later did he realize that they no longer placed any dependance on his desire and ability to speak for them.

Then came the ryoka incursion and the astonishing reappearance of Kurosaki Ichigo, who seemed to achieve a new level of power every time they met. Arriving on the heels of Abarai's sudden bankai release, which he had nonetheless utterly defeated, Kurosaki's bankai and victory over Byakuya sliced into his pre-conceptions with a bitter finality he could scarcely encompass at the time. Hard on that followed the revelation of conspiracy and the realization that Rukia had been sacrificed to a legal phantom. Byakaya had not understood, despite his noble title, his captaincy and his bankai, that it was not the law that kept order and stability, but the men who both obeyed and challenged it. Like a child, he had thought to abide by the letter of the law, trusting to it his integrity, and it had nearly torn him asunder. Ironically, Shinsou rending his flesh when he was finally moved to save Rukia began the repair of his soul, though that rescue, too little, too late, accomplished when the villains had already been exposed, could hardly salve his conscience.

When Shinsou pierced his chest in place of Rukia's heart, he had the whimsical thought that his blood bled as profusely red as any, followed by the momentary wish to join Hisana, then a flash of panic when he recalled that rebirth made no guarantees on that score.

His convalescence triggered a period of protracted contemplation which did not cease with his recovery. The first time Abarai sought to return his scarf, something impelled him to delay, a wisp of memory a century old, so faint that it had only returned with Shihouin Yoruichi's reappearance. "Byakuya-bo," she had once said, "Soul Society is the water that floats the boats of the noble houses, isn't it?" With all the conviction of youth, he had replied. "Of course. And it is the right of the noble houses to support Soul Society." A hint of a crease had appeared on her brow. "Ah, Byakuya-bo, but is what is good for the noble houses good for Soul Society?" Then, in a low murmur he scarcely caught, "It is too much for one family to hold three fiefs."

When the Shihouin leader had disappeared in the wake of Urahara Kisuke's banishment, he had condemned her fall into passion as loudly as any noble. The large and far-flung Shihouin clan and its affiliates had descended into an extended period of internecine chaos almost immediately. The struggles had ended only when Soi Fong, from a cadet branch, had released her bankai and taken over Secret Operations and the Second Division, though the Shihouin clan still acknowledged Yoruichi as its head. By that time, the Shihouin, though unassailable in its position as one of the Four Great Noble Houses, had been much diminished. Byakuya's grandfather had remained silent and thoughtful through all the tumult. Once he had said to Byakuya, "You might one day be the strongest Kuchiki leader, my grandson. When that time arrives, we will consider if the Sixth Division is the appropriate place for you to be."

In his Fourth Division sickbed, Byakuya wondered for the first time if the Demon Cat had exercised an unsurpassed ruthlessness in the Shihouin matter. If he had paid more than cursory attention to his fellow taichous and their fukutaichous, he would have realized that half the taichous and fukutaichous at the time of Aizen's betrayal did not have noble backgrounds, his own fukutaichou, after all, had come from the lowest of the low. Shinigami were traditionally drawn from the noble families because of their higher reiatsu levels, while the Great Houses had attained their supremacy because of their members' ability to reach bankai. Even so, bankai was not the prerogative of every Great House generation. For the Kuchiki, two bankai level members in three generations was somewhat of a miracle. As for the Shihouin, no clan leader was selected who did not already have bankai, so the tenure of each clan leader could span several generations.

Yet, the nobles who resided in Seireitei occupied but a small portion of Soul Society. Over the past two centuries, the shinigami academy had drawn an increasing number of applications from Rukongai, especially from the higher districts. Byakuya knew that many noble families opposed their inclusion for various reasons-- fewer academy places for their own children, worry about their offsprings' companions, concern that these commoner shinigami were notoriously unsympathetic to noble interests. However, Yamamoto Soutaichou had remained adamant that the shinigami academy be open to all who could pass its entrance exams.

Byakuya had always regarded the Soutaichou's policy as an ultimately quixotic exercise until the Aizen betrayal had exposed a deeply fissured Seireitei. Aizen himself was a noble, while his two lieutenants were Rukongai commoners, but Soi Fong, for all her vaunted loyalty, had answered the call of a more ancient loyalty and retuned to Yoruichi's side, while Kyouraki and Ukitate, most senior of the captains and nobles themselves, had heeded only the dictates of their own conscience. This world of his was infinitely more complicated than his previous notions concerning the structure of authority and prestige in Seireitei could contain, and during the period of his convalescence, Byakuya discovered that he was less ready to draw the boundaries of his world back into a narrow circumscription.

Time in Soul Society was lived differently from living world time, yet the two realms intersected of necessity at various points. It had been two centuries since the French Revolution, and its ideals had spread rapidly. It did not require the weight of the recent dead to press these ideals. Byakuya recalled Kurosaki Ichigo and his casual insouciance, Kurosaki, whose respect could not be compelled but had to be earned. Abarai had acquired a mask of military protocol, but he was made of much the same stuff as Ichigo. The nobles of Soul Society staked their claim by right of reiatsu, but any claim to power that sought a degree of longevity depended on a universal agreement to comply. In the long centuries that was Soul Society time, it was easy to lose sight of the changing world around them. He was one of the great nobles of Soul Society but Byakuya's horizons had shrunk to the perimeters of Seireitei.

The second time Abari asked about his scarf, Byakuya had found his answer. This man, Abarai Renji, was his counterweight. A man of Rukongai to balance a noble of Seireitei. Perhaps he was premature in placing a responsibility Abarai was unaware of and unprepared for on his shoulders, but this was the man who had defied death itself to protect Rukia. He was also the man who had not taken any longer than Byakuya himself to unlock his bankai, despite the well-known recalcitrance of Zabimaru. This truth, Byakuya could finally face with equanimity. In his moment of mortality on the end of Shinsou's blade, Kuchiki Byukaya had been nothing more than a man stripped of all but his vulnerability, but still a man, for all that. Knowing that, could he not look at all other men and see them as no more than men, nothing more, but nothing less?

Byakuya's retrospective meditations brought him to the garden entry to his personal quarters in the Kuchiki residence. As was his wont, he visited Hisana's favourite strand of sakura trees. She had loved the bower-like embrace of these trees-- fragile Hisana, who had clung to even such feeble symbols of protection, just as she had requested his protection for Rukia. For half a century, it had merely been symbolic. It had been his comfort to know that some remnant of Hisana remained, of such arresting resemblance, and he had loved Rukia for that likeness. After her rescue, he had wondered about this young sister who had inspired such devotion in two determined men, and a tentative rapprochement had begun. The first time he had seen her berate Abarai and Kurosaki, and witnessed their cowering abjection, he had nearly been startled into a laugh. So this was Kuchiki Rukia, a woman of no less indomitable will than any of the women before her who had been born to the name of Kuchiki. Once again, he had been too hasty in his judgment.

Thinking on Rukia, his footsteps brought him to her suite. She had a room in the Thirteenth Division barracks, but she spent much of her time off-duty at the Kuchiki residence, at his request. She was lying on her stomach reading, though she quickly got to her feet when he appeared. Once, he would have chastised her but now it was a gratifying sign of her new ease with him. "Nii-sama. Welcome back." She bowed.

He nodded. Greetings and farewells required the stamp of respectful formality. "Thank you, Rukia, it is good to return." His next question was couched as a statement. "You will be present at dinner tonight."

"Yes, Nii-sama. I will be off-duty for the next two days."

He glanced at the stack of papers on the floor. "I will not interrupt your work then. We will meet at dinner." He turned to leave, but was forestalled by Rukia speaking again.

"It is not Division work, Nii-sama, merely part of some personal research I am conducting concerning the living world. It makes for fascinating reading."

"Oh?" It was an invitation to continue. Rukia often returned from her frequent trips to the living world with amusing stories about its vagaries and a bewildering range of gifts, usually carried by Abarai, dragooned as her mule.

"Ahem." Rukia's voice assumed a professorial cadence. "The people of the living world have many hobbies and some of them choose to be storytellers. However, some of them construct stories not entirely of their own making, but attempt to extend the imagination of others whose narratives and characters they admire. They call this fanwork, and it takes its form as written stories, known as fanfic, art pieces known as fanart, and artwork accompanying dialogue which are called doujinshi. The doings of Soul Society have caught their attention and much has been written about us."

Byakuya held up his hand as he absorbed the significance of her words. "Soul Society's existence is hidden. How has our security been so easily breached? "

Rukia nodded. "Apparently, there is a man called Kubo Tite who has the most penetrating insight into the workings of Soul Society. Furthermore, our memory replacement tools do not work on him. He wrote a manga based on Ichigo's activities which has become extremely popular. To change so many memories would be impossible. However, its fans believe that our existence is a fiction, and that is probably why the security implications have not been brought to your attention."

Byakuya's lips firmed. "Kurosaki again. That young man has much to answer for." Rukia's admonishing look and his own honesty compelled him to add, "Though we are grateful to him." Abarai aside, Kurosaki was probably Rukia's best friend. With all his contributions to Soul Society, Byakuya had stopped referring to him as a brat after a point. After all, Kurosaki would one day take his rightful place in Soul Society. For now, this issue of Soul Society stories had to be investigated.

"If they treat Soul Society as a fiction, what dangerous further fictions do they perpetuate about us?"

Rukia's eyes acquired an amused sparkle. "They will write anything, Nii-sama, and it can be very entertaining. There are speculations about the past, the present and the future, elaborate accounts of Aizen and the war, anecdotes about shinigami, the arrancar and the ryoka, stories of romance and daring, These stories offer an amazing insight into the attitudes and mores of the living world since they remold us in their own image. At the same time, we are strangely similar in many ways, and their stories about us can be quite perspicacious!"

Byakuya glanced at the papers on the floor. "I take it that these represent examples of such... fanworks. May I have a look when you are finished with them?" Rukia knelt down and picked up several booklets, then handed them to him. "I have already read these ones, Nii-sama. Please go ahead. And, Nii-sama," her voice turned solemn, "these writers might appear presumptuous, but please keep an open mind." Taking the sheets from her, he nodded, then excused himself and retreated to his study to work on clan matters.

As he worked, his eyes strayed to Rukia's bundle, but Rukia had not deemed them a threat, and had dismissed them as mere entertainment. Finally, he laid aside the last account book and picked up the first booklet. At the bottom of the page, in fine print, were written the words "Distributed by H-Kitty & Co., under the imprimatur of the Shinigami Women's Association". Apparently, these stories already had a wide distribution.

He flipped through several pages and felt his cheeks flush. Rukia had been reading this? And the women of Seireitei? Writers in the living world wrote about this? This was not a security threat, this was mortifying absurdity. And how did Abarai's normally bold and sharp features appear so... soft? Strangely and unwillingly mesmerized, he swept his eyes across a series of drawings of him... arranging and enjoying his fukutaichou. One hand fell over the pictures as he considered the content. Did he appear so controlled and controlling to others? As lord of the Kuchiki, he was inevitably the cynosure of all eyes, and he did not believe in public displays of emotion to mere acquaintances. But surely, in the privacy of his chambers, he had shown Hisana all the tenderness he was capable of. Or did they think that Hisana's demise had leached away all gentler qualities? Had ihe/i been in those drawings, he would not have...

Byakuya's eyes widened as his thoughts skittered to a standstill. Had he just envisaged himself and Abarai in a curl of intimacy? Yet, Rukia's final admonition crept insidiously into his thoughts. "Keep an open mind." Turning the words over in his mind, and recalling the look in her eyes, he could not but conclude that she had intended that he consider possibility rather than content. The possibility of tenderness with Abarai? Once again, various thoughts jumbled in his mind with the residual images left by the artwork he had just perused. Enough. He closed his eyes and sought a point of inward stillness, then held each fragment of thought and feeling up to the clarity of that inner vision as he pieced them together to complete a patchwork of understanding.

His vision had not been a desultory construct of his imagination-- a mere passing thought would not have left all his senses heightened and his blood on the verge of an incipient heat. Abarai Renji-- he tested the name slowly on his tongue, a name he had known in so many different ways over so many years. The name tasted of both the familiar and the unknown. He found the syllables harshly pleasing, somewhat like the man himself, arrogant and brash, loyal and true, warm and mocking. With a rare outward sigh, he leaned back against his chair and stared out into the garden. All his previous musings about Abarai were falling into abeyance.

He had watched as Abarai and Rukia resumed their long interrupted friendship and made no demur. This time, he would lay aside pride of clan and lineage and learn what it was to take pride in people. He had stood for a moment in Abarai's shoes and learnt his loss and grief, but also his resolution and hope. He touched Rukia's longing for family and vowed that she would know more than one. And somehow, from him observing them, it became him and Abarai watching over Rukia. Over these past years, he had expected Abarai to request his sister's hand in marriage, yet that audience had never materialized. It seemed to him that the closer Abarai and Rukia became, the more fraternal they were. Rukia was the bossy and demanding younger sister and Abarai the hapless and indulgent older brother. The look in Abarai eyes, he realized, had gradually changed from helpless worship to protective affection.

And what of the look in Abarai's eyes when he looked at Byakuya? Respect and determination, and sometimes, if he indicated that he was in a receptive mood, sly good humour. They had both laboured hard at their taichou-fukutaichou relationship in the past years, building the Sixth Division anew, baptizing their efforts with steel, sweat and trust. Abarai had frequent missions to the living world while Byakuya held fort, but they had negotiated a distribution of duties which spoke to their strengths-- Byakuya's talent for organization and strategy, Abarai's ability to train and inspire the men serving with him. In war, they had fought at each other's side. The fukutaichous watched their taichous' backs, but Byakuya had found that, as Abarai mastered his bankai through battle after battle, they had gradually grown to fight as equal partners, exchanging roles back and forth during battle.

He had thought that they were the most effective fighting pair, until their recent joint sparring session with the Tenth Division. Hitsugaya's and Matsumoto's teamwork was impeccable. Byakuya did not allow himself to indulge in superlatives, but a pair who fought as one was a rarity even among the elite officers of Seireitei. Hitsugaya Toushiro's apparently blowsy fukutaichou was as unexpectedly intimidating as Unohana Taichou. That training plan she had instituted was astonishing in its detailed analysis of the various strengths of the officers of the Gotei 13. That aside, those crystalline eyes, though often lazily smiling, could take on a piercing intelligence that saw deeper than was comfortable for most. And her fighting skills were a flawless complement to Hitsugaya's. He heard that they sparred together most days.

Sparring was something he and Abarai never did. Ever since that first duel, Abarai had hesitated to raise his sword against his captain. Byakuya knew that Abarai often practiced with Ikkaku from the Eleventh and sometimes, Kenpachi would join them in a three-way fight which usually sent all three into Unohana's tender care. Kurosaki was another frequent sparring partner, since he now treated Seireitei like a second home. Byakuya would also see Hisagi, Kira or Hinamori come for Abarai, zanpakuto in hand. He knew well what it was to partner Abarai in a fight, but not to fight against him. Somehow, he now felt as if membership in a charmed circle had been denied him. You will face him soon, he reminded himself. Then you will truly see what time and experience has made of him.

His abdomen clenched at the thought, sending shivers up his spine, and the quiescent heat in his blood briefly flared. The coming duel would be, for want of a better word, exhilarating. He knew Abarai's battle face-- exultant and utterly intent on his opponent, and now, with the floodgates on a previously unacknowledged, unforeseen longing released, he could not longer await the duel with calm expectation when he thought of all that intensity focused solely on him. He could call himself a fool in his dotage, and would have, not too many years ago, to allow the hopes he had felt for a protégé transmute into something so very different. Now, having trained himself to painful honesty over the last few years, he could admit that it felt like a glorious re-awakening. When a protégé was no longer a protégé, an array of possibilities appeared before his erstwhile mentor.

He would always love Hisana-- it was a love for which much had been sacrificed, and a love which had saved him from his worser inclinations and taught his heart that it should not lose the ability to choose freely. Yet, in the half century following her death, having chosen the cold celibacy of mourning, he had been immured in a fog of grief so thick, it had shrouded him from the world, narrowing it dangerously to clan and division as he performed his duties, merely existing in the day-to-day.

Revealing his true relationship with Rukia had lanced the open wound on his heart, and as he had healed, he had acknowledged the return of his humanity. The fog had, since his confession, dissipated into a mildly melancholic sepia mist honouring a beloved memory. By returning Hisana to the past where she truly belonged, he had suddenly been able to discern the future, something that, for Kuchiki Byakuya, was of paramount importance. And now, though he suspected that his demeanor would always be distant and stern, the discipline and habits of nearly a century things he was loathe to erase, somehow that fiery, impetuous boy he had been was uncurling his body and reaching towards the sun again.

But you are getting ahead of yourself, the dry voice of reason cautioned. It is too soon and too sudden, for either of you. At the very least, you have no idea what Abarai's preferences might be. Yet, he recalled the moment of suspension earlier that afternoon, when each had looked at the other. It had been a gaze of empathy-- two men acknowledging each other, then Abarai's eyes had suddenly burnt brighter than rubies, for a second, for an eon. Perhaps he, too, had been opening his mind to possibility.

If the possibility comes true, the voice continued, you will have to face the clan, again. Byakuya's lips curved upwards in the veriest semblance of a smile. Yes, but I will face the clan anyway. The last few years had not passed in empty reflection. He had taken the reins of the Kuchiki clan firmly into his hands and was subtly revising the direction of the clan. He remembered an old joke his grandfather had made. "How many Kuchikis does it take to write a line of history?" "As many as can obtain a sinecure."

The business of the clan was not to be noble, as many of its members thought, but to keep and update the records of Seiretei. The Kuchiki archives were a separate entity from the archives maintained by the official organs of the Gotei 13 and Central 46. For this purpose, they required enough power and influence to maintain the integrity of their own records, but, for the same reason, neither could they falter in their purpose nor allow incompetence in their work. Therefore, the Kuchikis were shinigami, scholars and administrators, all with a duty to protect the objectivity of the historian's office against the encroachments of power. In the near future, Byakuya intended to remind the assorted Kuchiki of that very forcefully. After years of ignoring numerous matchmaking approaches, he had also come to a decision in the matter of his succession, and the Abarai possibility would only provide yet another impetus for him initiate the search for his successor on his own terms, much as Shihouin Yoruichi had done.

In the meantime, his plans were kept under the lock and key of his own counsel, even from Rukia. He was a master strategist, and this was too momentous an undertaking. Not only did his position and name hang in the balance but also the future of his clan. A whimsical thought crossed his mind as he turned once again to his desk. If he lost the gamble, he would henceforth be known as Byakuya Taichou.

The taste of the future filled his mouth, fiery as spice, rich as wine, savoury as possibility.

_Renji._

X

TBC

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	3. Recognition

Title: Recognition

Characters: Renji, Byakuya (ByaRen)

Rating: PG-13, I think…

Summary: 3rd part of Renji – Reflection. Series of episodes leading to the duel.

Warning: SS arc spoilers, utter fluff and sap—not for the diabetic of heart.

Disclaimer: Own no part of Bleach, not even bleach

A/N Don't mean to self-pimp but this chapter makes more sense if you've read the previous two. I tried to not write them too OOC, but they're covering new ground here and hopefully there is a logic about their characterization which follows from the previous chapters. Let me know what you think. Bows

Also, I wrote this with Andrew Marvell's ultimate carpe diem poem "To His Coy Mistress" running through my mind, and if you're not familiar with it, a few of the lines will make more sense if you go to www .bartleby .com /101 /357 .html

Miko: Shrine maiden

Kaiseki: banquet style cooking consisting of bite-sized helpings

Taiyaki: Renji's favourite snack, fish-shaped cakes filled with sweet red bean paste

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Kuchiki Byakuya sat in meditative silence at the edge of the lotus pond that fronted his quarters, clad in a thin sleeping yukata, hair loosely clasped at his back. Though his features were calm and his eyes closed, the heavy weight of his reiatsu was a warning to all who would disrupt his solitude.

'Senbonzakura.' A sudden blurring of perspective, and Senbonzakura manifested, kneeling on one knee before her wielder, a fist balanced on the ground. She had the appearance of a warrior miko, white kimono embroidered with seals of stylized sakura and red hakama glowing with petal-like sheen, black hair pulled tightly into a braid high on her head, and burning, black eyes an unsettling contrast to a pale oval face distinguished by contours of extreme asceticism.

'Yes, Taichou.' She had never called him by any other title since the day she first spoke to him. 'You are my commander, and one day, you will command others as well," she had said in reply to his protest, the protest of a youth hardly removed from his boyhood, half jubilant, half terrified that his zanpakuto had responded to him. Once, when they had seen many more years together, he had commented that she never used his Kuchiki titles, and she had sharply retorted that she did not serve the Kuchiki, she was not a servant but a warrior, and that she would respond as a warrior to her commander.

'Time hurries near. You will be prepared.'

'Yes. Zabimaru.' The zanpakuto's name hissed through the miko's lips as she bared her teeth in a fierce grin. 'It has been a long while since we faced each other in battle.' Her grin deepened as she gazed at her commander. 'His wielder was too young in power then, but it was a good fight. We did not break them. They have never broken.'

'It will be different this time,' he said. 'They had devoured Time itself and have grown amidst all the rough strife.'

Senbonzakura's eyes burned like coals. 'As have we. We will not break either.' His lids lowered in acknowledgement. She knelt in place quietly, then one eyebrow went up. 'You are in a whimsical mood today, Taichou.'

The corners of his lips lifted briefly. 'Merely recalling the words of an Englishman long dead. Abarai puts me in mind of them.'

Later that morning, Byakuya stood at the entrance to Yamamoto Soutaichou's office, impeccable in his uniform and arrayed in his insignias of rank. The soutaichou rose as he entered, hands clasped, as always, on his staff. They made their customary greetings, then the soutaichou broke into a slight smile. "I understand that you bring glad tidings, Kuchiki Taichou. That matter we discussed several years ago may now be happily resolved, to the benefit of the Gotei Thirteen."

Byakuya inclined his head. "Yes, Soutaichou. It is my belief that Abarai Renji, fukutaichou of the Sixth Division, is ready to rise to the rank of captain, whether through the examination or through recommendation. I do not imagine either will prove a problem. Of course, he has my personal recommendation, and I believe Zaraki Taichou's, with whom he served prior to entering my division."

The soutaichou nodded. "Indeed. Zaraki Taichou has already delivered his recommendation, as have Ukitake, Kyouraku and Hitsugaya. I will also add my recommendation, while Soi Fong, Unohana and Hisagi have also given their verbal agreement. Abarai Fukutaichou was most impressive during the war and I knew that this day would soon arrive."

Byakuya's startlement showed only in the slight widening of his eyes. "I have not yet communicated my decision to any of the other taichous." Somehow, he felt bereft.

A smile of gentle amusement crossed the soutaichou's lips. "In the immortal words of Kusajishi Fukutaichou when Zaraki Taichou came to give his recommendation, 'Tattoo-head now looks and walks like a taichou!' I believe the recent change in his demeanor has been apparent to all who were watching him. After all, there is still an urgent need to fill our vacant taichou positions, though we would not have asked it of him if he had not been ready. But we believed that we could wait for him, as did you, Kuchiki Taichou, or you would not have volunteered to help supervise the Fifth Division these past years."

Byukaya covered his added chagrin with a graceful nod in acknowledgment of the soutaichou's acuity. It appeared that decades of leadership had still left him unlearned in the finer points of subtlety. The soutaichou's eyes, keen under the lowered, wrinkled lids, were watching him closely, compelling him to defend his apparent partiality. "I have the highest confidence in Abarai Fukutaichou, Yamamoto Soutaichou. He is a man of courage and honour, and an exemplary leader."

The soutaichou's smiled widened under his beard. "I am certain Abarai Fukutaichou will be gratified by your endorsement." He tapped his staff on the floor, signaling the end of the interview. "Do what you can to prepare him for his new position. I will send for him with dispatch."

Byakuya bowed, then retreated. A necessary step had been taken, and the official machinery of the Gotei Thirteen set in motion, yet he was vaguely ruffled by the feeling that time was out of joint. Returning to his office, he found his fukutaichou absent. "Probably the soutaichou's summons," he thought as he reached for the first document on his desk and settled into his paperwork. Surely the soutaichou could have left him the pleasure of informing Abarai of his promotion. Lips set, he continued working until he felt a flurry of reiatsu, followed by Abarai's familiar tread. He put down his brush, and Abarai appeared after a cursory knock on his door.

His fukutaichou's tall, lean form shimmered with barely suppressed excitement from top-knot to toe, clearing the room with his ozone-laden energy. It lent an electric quality to his hair and a faint flush to his cheekbones. His crimson eyes glittered with exotic highlights, like tiny beacons in a dense, dark jungle. "Rubies on the Ganges", thought Byakuya, arrested, on a soaring heartbeat. Face deliberately impassive, he flattened his hands against his desk, holding them there. "Yes, Abarai?"

Abarai came slowly into the room, obviously searching for the right words. Then his face turned solemn as he found his voice. Byakuya's back, already ramrod straight, became rigid as he steeled himself, abruptly fighting a pit-deep fidgety hollowness. This was no grand venue, merely an office where routine administrative duties were performed, yet circumstance lent a ponderous dignity to the proceedings. The words that Abarai would speak aloud, albeit to confirm what both men already knew, were words that held all the weight of change, will he nil he.

"Taichou, the soutaichou summoned me to the First Division to offer me the position of taichou of the Fifth Division. After due consideration, I have most gratefully accepted the position. The official investiture will take place in six weeks." Byakuya stood up, but before he could reply, Abarai continued, flush more pronounced, "I wish to thank you for your recommendation, Taichou."

"Nine taichous spoke for you, Abarai Taichou." And I was the last. His voice clung to its usual dryness. "All consider you deserving of the position."

Abarai's gaze turned piercingly direct. "None have done as much as you, Taichou. I do know enough to know that. You have been very patient with me despite my obstinate unwillingness to open my eyes and see."

Byakuya's breathing hitched. The man had so filled his vision to its periphery that he had not seen the captain. This was the Abarai Renji the others had recommended, confident and brash as always, but newly easy in his own skin and as honed as Zabimaru's blade. Even his reiatsu had acquired the clear, pure trill of a deadly edge. He took a deep breath to smother the sudden thrill of heat at the sight in front of him. "A taichou's duty, one that I had to learn on the job." He let a hint of regret enter his tone. This much of his earlier mistakes, he could confess to. "Now that you are to captain the Fifth, I trust that you will acquire that lesson with all appropriate speed."

Abarai's eyes radiated confusion—regret was a sentiment rarely displayed by the Sixth Division taichou—then hardened with determination, the tang of his reiatsu turning metallic. "I will not forget the lesson, Taichou." Abruptly, the mood in the office lightened as his features broke into a grin, "After all, I did learn from the best. I'll get back to work now, Taichou." On a wink, he was gone.

Byakuya's spine returned to its customary ramrod position as he stared, eyes widened, at the doorway between their offices through which Abarai had disappeared. He could feel the corners of his lips valiantly tending upwards. Lessons learnt, indeed. Somehow, that misbegotten lout had also mastered the art of a fine exit.

The next morning, Abarai's appearance in the Division was heralded by shouts of congratulation. Apparently, the news of his promotion had traveled the length and breath of Seireitei, though neither friend nor subordinate had been able to find Abarai the previous evening to initiate the first round of celebrations. Byakuya's brow creased briefly. Abarai was one of the more convivial spirits of the Gotei Thirteen, with boon drinking companions among the divisions' top officers. He would have expected him to have toasted the night away, and come stumbling in disarray into the Division this morning, yet here he was, at his doorway, slightly paler than usual, but firm of gait, ruby eyes unclouded and slightly... bashful?

"Good morning, Taichou." Abarai's hands held a furoshiki-wrapped object, which he placed on Byakuya's desk, his face slightly averted. His eyes met Byakuya's for a moment, then his lids lowered, hiding them. "A thank-you gift, Taichou. I hope that it will please you." The commonplace phrases sounded stilted, but he and Abarai had never been in the habit of exchanging gifts. His last and only gift to Abarai had been too overwhelming. Looking at Abarai's expectant air, Byakuya realized that he was waiting for him to unwrap the present. It was a triple-decked lacquered food box, simply but beautiful made, the clear lacquer burnishing the clean lines of the wood. Carefully, he separated each layer of the box and, as he took in the artfully arranged display before him, felt as if his heart had stuttered to a halt under the press of a slow-moving glacier receding into the distance.

"Thank you, Abarai." He could barely keep the bitter rancor from dripping into his voice as he forced out the courtesy while half jumbled phrases ran through his mind. "World enough and time leaching into Deserts of vast eternity." Abarai's face fell slightly at the flatness of his intonation, and at the sight, a rare sense of ill-usage compelled him to add, "But you need not have troubled the lady."

Abarai's disappointed look gave way to one of astonishment, "Lady? What lady, Taichou?"

Lout indeed. Byakuya mentally gritted his teeth and lowered his lids on a breath to regain his equilibrium. Allowing a hint of irony to colour his voice, he replied with frozen patience, "The lady who obviously cares enough for you to prepare a kaiseki feast for your previous taichou in the little hours of the night, Abarai Taichou. Surely she is deserving of the designation 'lady'?" And the ilady/i with whom you spent the night celebrating your promotion. The thought, sour as the dregs of inferior tea, would not leave his mind, and Byakuya resigned himself to the indubitably masochistic pleasure of imagining just how Abarai had passed the night.

His grim meditations were interrupted by the light of bemused understanding that dawned on Abarai's baffled face. "But Taichou, there really isn't any lady. I cooked this myself."

That last statement, so sudden and so alien to his present knowledge of the man, startled Byakuya into an involuntary, "You cook?"

Perhaps his reaction had been too extreme, for Kuchiki Byakuya. A ruddiness mounted Abarai's cheeks and his eyes refused to meet Byakuya's as he explained, "Have always been interested in food since Rukongai, and after eating in the academy mess for six years, I swore I would learn to cook the food I wanted exactly the way I wanted. So I taught myself, but it still didn't look right, so I got into the looks of it as well, and I started practicing kaiseki cooking." Half-embarrassed, he added, "Never thought it was sissy, or anything."

Suddenly, Byakuya's heart was pounding as time reset itself. Not too late. No women, neither to cook nor to teach. No recent, unforeseen, untimely attachment. He imagined Abarai standing before a cooking block, face intent, slicing and molding, strong, blunt fingers delicately handling each bit of food that he saw in the boxes before him. Rapid on the heels of this vision came the decision to consume every last morsel, every indirect caress. This fall into sentimentality he should deprecate, yet, at the back of his soul, something unfurled at the thought that he could be so foolishly fond. He said with calm deliberation, "Most of the top chefs in Soul Society are men, Abarai. It is a gift that will give me great pleasure." He paused as Abarai's face relaxed. "Rukia never mentioned this."

A glint of humour lit Abarai's eyes. "With all due respect, Taichou, all Rukia cares about is whether what she eats is Chappy-shaped or not. I'll bet that she's never mentioned that all those Chappy bentos she's eaten were homemade. The others just want large, hearty meals to go with the sake" His voice dipped. "Apart from myself, you've the first person I've made a kaiseki meal for, so you'll have to let me know what you did not like about it." He bowed, then turned to leave when Byakuya's voice arrested his departure. "Return at lunch-time, and share this with me. You may tell me how each item was made." Abarai nodded without turning back, and was gone.

The sun at its apogee found them seated at the edge of the corridor bordering their offices, overlooking the garden. Byakuya poured tea while Abarai deftly arranged the various dishes. Almost gingerly, Byakuya took his first bite, aware of Abarai's watchful attention. All at once, the essences of sea and land met on his palate-- sweet shrimp from the first catch of the morning, balanced on the muted richness of white asparagus brushed with a faintly spicy glaze. All doting resolve to please Abarai evaporated. This level of artistry did not permit the intrusion of personal feelings. Genuine enjoyment was the only true homage.

Bite by leisurely bite, he meandered in a culinary landscape that told of early summer and moderate climes. Finally, with a mental sigh of repletion, he spoke, "Formidable. The gods should never grant one man both the reiatsu of a captain and the hands of a chef." The broad grin that spread across Abarai's face prompted him to inquire, on a note of curiosity, "When did you begin?"

Abarai's grin turned crooked. An unidentifiable emotion flashed in his eyes, and was replaced by a strongly resolute look. "Kira told me a little about the formal meals in noble households. I was curious, so I did a little research." The grin became a smile of reminiscent, good-humoured mockery. "I also wondered what you ate and how it looked, and when I cooked, I would sometimes wonder what you would think of something I had just made."

Byakuya stilled, utterly captured by the words. Sometimes, Abarai was capable of a heart-stopping honesty that took his breath away. How large a shadow had he, oblivious and uncaring, cast over this man's life, that he would seek to emulate him where he could? For what Abarai had divulged, he did not know what to feel. Pity, or regret, or apology? Or, the gods help him, this insidious pleasure and burgeoning hope at the other's acknowledgment that he was of import, even now the sole recipient of his vast culinary largesse? This Abarai, of the resplendent future, did not consider the past a closed book. Instead, he was preparing a new chapter with Kuchiki Byakuya's name still inscribed in it. Silence descended over the garden as Byakuya picked his way through a welter of thoughts. Abarai merely sat across from him, appearing strangely content.

Then, the arrangement of dishes before Byakuya's eyes dissolved into an understanding that was uncompromising in its clarity. Abarai did not need his pity. The shape known as Kuchiki Byakuya had served as Abarai's inspiration, but at some point on the path that Abarai walked, his destination had changed. Just as his shinigami powers had hurled him beyond Kuchiki Byakuya's shadow and made him a captain, a genuine passion for the art, coupled with an undoubted talent, had burnt away the last vestiges of hero worship in a domain where Byakuya could not make any claim to mastery. Recalling the good-natured self-mockery of the other during his confession, it was patently clear that Abarai Renji had learnt that it sufficed in every way to be Abarai Renji. And Abarai Renji was courage personified, bounding overhead into the unexplored. An uneasy urgency beset him as he pondered Byakuya's response to Abarai's leap forward, the Byakuya whom he had discovered and nurtured over the past month ever since that fateful afternoon, who covertly watched Abarai, yet never ventured a word.

"Address me as Byakuya," he said carefully, "and, if you will grant me the freedom of your name, I will address you as Renji." Renji. He had done that once, but not since the war.

Abarai's customary grin glinted. "Byakuya," he said slowly, as if testing new ground, as if savouring. "Byakuya," he repeated. He leaned back, almost lolling in his ease, though there was a suggestion of pink on the sharply defined cheekbones. A teasing note entered his voice. "A fine name."

"As you please, Renji."

A silence fell between them while Byakuya gathered his thoughts. Then Renji spoke again, his tone firm and confident. "You know, Tai- Byakuya, we made an appointment last month, but never agreed on the place and time."

Byakuya gave a mental start at the words which so nearly paralleled his own musings. Now that events had overleapt each other, it were well that they undid the Gordian knot of those aspects of the past which were now untenable for them. "Indeed."

Renji straightened from his easy slouch, head tilted, considering. His gaze sharpened. "How about today then? I'm ready whenever you are. And I know just the place."

Byakuya's chest roiled. Was he to be the dilatory one yet again? Yet, the line between haste and hastiness was a fine one. He gestured at the remains of their meal. "You did not appear to get any rest last night."

Renji shrugged. "I spent most of the night communing with Zabimaru. Figured it was as much his promotion as mine. Give me a few hours of sleep and I'll be ready by evening. If you are ready to fight today." His cocksure wolf's grin appeared.

So be it. Byakuya got to his feet. "Senbonzakura is most eager to encounter Zabimaru again. I will see you at the end of the day, Renji."

They started with sealed zanpakuto, in a contest of pure swordsmanship. This fight was very different from the last, unmarred by desperation on the part of one, or ineffable superiority on the part of the other. Now, time and warfare had forged a partnership of fluid move and countermove, a shared knowledge become almost intuitive. Now, that knowledge brought complexity to the fight as each used it against the other, eyes intent on each signaling move. They were not fighting at peak intensity yet, merely testing each other in a series of sorties, swords flashing in intricate strike and counterstrike, tabi-clad feet flexing and un-flexing with each round of movement and stillness.

"He is a peerless swordsman," Byakuya thought. "He has always been very good, but now he has been honed on the whetstone of war and experience." If you fought on a regular basis with Zaraki Kenpachi, who had overwhelming strength and power on his side, and Madrame Ikkaku, himself a lesser force of nature, then your mastery of technique and tactics became paramount. Not to mention Kurosaki, idiot savant, who was one of the most naturally gifted swordsmen Byakuya had ever known.

"Shikai!" shouted Renji, as their footsteps moved seamlessly into shunpo. Few were as fast as Byakuya, and he knew only two who were faster, though of that teacher-and-student duo the least said the better, but Renji was fast enough. Zabimaru turned, coiled and swung through the scattered petals of Senbonzakura. Renji had managed to overcome Zabimaru's three-extension limitation sometime during the war, and in his hands, Zabimaru's blade was more flexible and stronger than a bamboo pole.

"Bakudo 61: Rukujyoukourou." One of the spells used in Renji's previous defeat. Thus a necessary component of _this_ particular fight. As the bars of light shot towards Renui, Zabimaru gleamed red for an instant with Renji's reiatsu and the six bars were neatly deflected. Renji's grin was razor sharp. "Got Hinamori and Kira to help me with the kido. Figured even if I didn't use it in battle, I should very well know how to disable it. If bakudo can be broken by raising one's reiatsu, then I thought they could be broken by applying reiatsu before they took effect, if I acted right away!" Renji's movements never wavered while he spoke.

"Very creative." Byakuya threw several hakudo spells at Renji, observing that he used his superlative swordsmanship to meet the spells. The splash of destructive reiatsu bore holes into his clothing but did not harm him greatly, while Byakuya himself was forced to defend against a sinuous Zabimaru who tore through the spells to attack him.

Adrenalin now fired Byakuya's blood and he needed no further urging to leap into bankai. It was exhilarating to combat at full power in a fight not born of battle necessity, and Senbonzakura's joyous cry to arms resounded in his head. Renji's monstrous bankai towered like a monolith above him as his fur cape settled about his shoulders, and for the briefest moment, Byakuya wondered how Renji would look if he had not been wearing his shikahausho. That thought, however, failed to gain purchase as Senbonzakura and Zabimaru immediately plunged into battle and Byakuya's senses all converged on the movements of the man and the snake before him.

The finale to their fight exploded in a maelstrom of pink petals and white bone. When the dust cleared, several of the hillocks had been leveled but both combatants had neither faltered nor fallen. Both were breathing hard, clothing in tatters, heavily bruised and scratched. Renji's arms and legs were bleeding from crisscrossed wounds, while there was a deep gouge in Byakuya's side and another on his leg.

Byakuya was the first to speak. After all, the gestures were his to make in this oddly ceremonial but deadly powerful contest of theirs. "I congratulate you, Renji. Your fangs are sharp indeed. I will wear with pride the scars they have inflicted." He indicated his side and leg.

Renji huffed as he fought for the breath to speak. "You can tell Senbonzakura that her petals are as keen as ever." At the sly grin that crossed his face, an old, sorry band of tension between them eased. A moment of suspended silence lingered as Renji closed his eyes on some private thought, but when they reopened, they were ruby clear, and his voice was brash as he added, "Time to heal up. Urahara left a healing spring here."

"Urahara?" A name that somehow never disappeared from Soul Society, even when its owner resided in the living world.

"This was his and Yoruichi's old training ground. I released my bankai here. Ichigo as well."

"Ah. A most appropriate place then." Renji led him to a little bubbling spring. After washing their wounds, they left their clothing aside and entered the spring.

Byakuya watched as Renji sank deeper into the water, droplets of condensation forming at his brow and along the arch of his neck. Eyes closed, lips upturned in relaxation, he raised one hand to his head and shook his hair into a spill of crimson. Suddenly, Byakuya's hands were holding great handfuls of Renji's hair, anchoring him to his kiss. In this, if in nothing else these eventful two days, he would be beforehand with time's chariots and cast his battered itinerary beneath their wheels.

Renji's lips were blood-warm and seawater-sweet, and Byakuya's lapping tongue sought every crumb of taste it could glean. Finally, they parted, and Byakuya found new domains of texture and flavour to explore. He ran his tongue across Renji's teeth and found them as sharp as the wolf's grin foretold. The faint, wet roughness of Renji's tongue met his in a mild abrasion that sent a frisson down his spine, and the cavern of Renji's mouth reminded him faintly of sweet red beans. With a slight exhalation, Byakuya immersed himself in the taste of Renji, his tongue an avid and tensile adventurer into its mysteries.

Finally, on an upsurge of feeling, they broke apart. "This isn't an adrenalin jag, is it?" Renji's eyes were unusually serious, and a little uncertain, all previous cheer gone, the colour high on his cheekbones. He had never seen the other man so vulnerable, even during the time spent at his sickbed after Aizen's betrayal.

"No," he whispered. He wished to make some kind of assurance, but his tongue, which had been so agile, felt stupidly tied in knots with the force of the moment as his internal clock once again fumbled. But he knew his eyes were wide open, and hoped that Renji would find in them what he could not yet pronounce.

A slight smile edged Renji's lips, a newly intimate smile meant only for them. "You have beautiful eyes, Byakuya," he said. "I have thought so for the past month." Then he grinned broadly, winking. "In case you were wondering, this isn't an adrenalin jag for me either."

A ticklish feeling started in Byakuya's chest. Allowing it to rise, it curved his lips as they met the waiting Renji again and he plunged headlong into a world of sunshine and warm oceans, with the scent of childish confections wafting in the wind.

_Give me an age to adore each part. Surely, Renji, we will make our sun stand still._

X

TBC

Reviews appreciated and pored over.


	4. Interlude Post Recognition

Title: Interlude, Post- Recognition

Characters: Byakuya, Renji, Matsumoto and their zanpakuto

Summary: These ideas were cut from "Recognition" since they would be deadweight there but I really liked them, so I wrote them out as omake interludes.

Omake 1

Byakuya felt Senbonzakura wince. 'Senbonzakuara?'

'Che, Zabimaru's pitching a hissing fit.' The disapproval in her voice was clear.

'Oh?' It was an invitation to continue.

'Hyourinmaru just flew in with a dozen zanpakuto on his back into the common ground.' The zanpakuto resided in their own worlds, which were linked to shared areas known as "common ground" where they interacted. Battles were fought on common ground. 'They're all carrying picnic baskets.' The outrage in Senbonzakura's voice had deepened. 'Zabimaru is furious. He says they are making a mockery of the sanctity of the duel. Renji's holding him back. That is wise,' she added thoughtfully. 'Attacking Hyourinmaru is not good tactics.'

'Is he so feared then?'

'There are other zanpakuto as powerful as he. But he is treated with due caution. It has been many years since a party of zanpakuto ambushed him, and the whirlpool of ashy ice that covers that common ground still stands as a warning.'

'Ashy ice? I was unaware that Hyourinmaru had that power.'

'Haineko is his constant companion. It is what makes them so dangerous.'

'Hitsugaya and Matsumoto have served together a mere few decades.'

'And I say, with all due respect, Taichou, Hyourinmaru and Haineko are never separated. Their bond is unique among the zanpakuto. Their wielders always find each other.'

'Interesting.'

'But the true reason that Hyourinmaru is feared is because he is Soul Society's best practical joker. I have never seen a joke rebound on him.'

'Does Hitsugaya not control him?'

'Perhaps. Hyourinmaru is a part of his soul, after all.' Senbonzakura winced again. 'That was Hitsugaya bellowing at Hyourinmaru. Matsumoto is whistling too. But they're packing up their baskets. Oh, Ryuujin Jakka has appeared.'

'Do they remain as observers?'

'We will fight to the best of our ability, Taichou. All Seireitei gossip passes through Hyourinmaru's paws.'

Omake 2 - Recalls who gave Renji relationship advice, and how Byakuya opened his eyes to his feelings.

"Abarai-kun!" They heard the rich alto voice call out before its owner appeared around the corner. "Oh, you're here too, Kuchiki Taichou!"

Matsumoto came closer and stared down at the food boxes between the two men. "Ah, kaiseki!" Her luminous crystalline eyes held a knowingness that made Byakuya cringe inwardly. A hint of imp appeared in her smile as she addressed him. "You're a very fortunate man, Kuchiki Taichou. I don't think Abarai-kun has ever made a complete kaiseki meal for anyone else. All we get are bits and pieces when he's experimenting." She made a moue of displeasure at a slightly red Renji, though the look of wicked pleasure in her eyes had deepened.

"What are you doing over here, Matsumoto?" Renji's voice was short.

The delicate eyebrows lifted over widened eyes. "You're so unwelcoming, Abarai-kun! I'm here to congratulate you on your promotion, of course! Taichou sends his best wishes as well and says that he will come by soon." At her words, Renji's face relaxed into a grin. "Sure you didn't skip out again, Matsumoto?"

"Ah, I told Taichou that we needed to celebrate, and since we couldn't find you the last couple of evenings, we had to absolutely catch you at lunch! Didn't expect to find you the cook though!" She turned again to Byakuya. "I don't think there's anything Abarai can't make! He'll take any request but a kaiseki meal!" She waved a minatory finger at Renji. "Really, Abarai-kun, you're too mean to all of us, except for Kuchiki Taichou!"

"Matsumoto!" Renji expostulated. Ignoring him, she continued, "But we're nice enough to forgive you and even bring you this little present." She held out a sheet of paper and Renji took it dubiously, though his face broke into a broad grin once he began to scan the contents. "This is old man Kobo's taiyaki recipe!" he exclaimed, delighted. "I've been after him for years to let me have it, but he's always refused. How did you manage it?" A note of alarm had entered his voice. It was Matsumoto, after all.

She waved aside his suspicions. "We simply told him that you were becoming a taichou, and he said that, in this case, you were unlikely to give up being a shinigami and open your own taiyaki shop. So he handed the recipe over happily!"

Renji stared at her incredulously. "So that was what it took? Me becoming a taichou? That old man is really tough." He shook his head in wonder and chuckled.

"So," said Matsumoto throatily, "when are you going to make a batch of taiyaki to thank us?" She leaned over suggestively, her bosom almost spilling from her robe. Byakuya, who had been eyeing the pleasure on Renji's face with quiet appreciation, suddenly felt his fingers twitch with the need to haul her over the garden wall. She shot him a glance from under her lashes, then straightened with a slight giggle. "It's all right, Abarai-kun," her voice had returned to its normal register. A note of coy amusement accompanied her next words. "If you feel the need for a little chat, do come by the Tenth Division office. Taichou and I will always welcome you." With a swish of her hips, she was gone, leaving a slightly spluttering Renji and a thoughtful Byakuya.

"There goes the most terrifying pair of breasts in Seireitei." Byakuya was about to admonish Renji for his crudity, but the look on Renji's face was not salacious, but shrewdly assessing. "And probably the next taichou of the Third Division, if she wishes so."

"She has obtained bankai?" That possibility was one to strike terror into men's hearts.

"I know she was training for it before the war. But I suspect only Hitsugaya knows the truth of it, and he will act only on Matsumoto's wishes. As it is, it will not be easy to detach her from the Tenth Division. And Hitsugaya does most of her paperwork."

"There are many stories about her."

"Mostly nonsense. She's smart and devious and sees way too much, but Matsumoto's as true blue as they come. It's just that she likes to meddle in her friends' lives, either for their own good or for her own entertainment, preferably both."

"And you are friends."

"All of us are terrified of her. Well, maybe except for Ise Nanao. Though Zabimaru tries to stay away from that demon cat she calls Hai-kitty. He won't even let me place him next to Haineko."

H-ai-kitty. A sudden thought struck Byakuya. "Renji, are Rukia and Matsumoto well-acquainted?"

"Rukia? I think they've been rather thick since Karakura, and of course, there's the SWA connection. Why?"

Byakuya recalled a pair of penetrating skylight eyes, a pair of earnest violet ones, the events of a significant afternoon, and a stack of strategically placed so-called ByaRen booklets. Then he looked at the man facing him. Renji.

"A very good friend indeed. And a very dangerous enemy."


	5. Conclave

Title: Recognition

Title: Conclave

Characters: Renji, Byakuya (ByaRen) and OC Kuchiki elders

Rating: PG-13 if politics turns you on.

Summary: 4th part of Renji – Reflection. Byakuya faces the Kuchiki Council. A development of Chapter Two

Warning: None, I think.

Disclaimer: Own no part of Bleach, not even bleach

A/N This is not a ByaRen fluff chapter, but I will maintain, despite the summary, that it is a ByaRen chapter. You may agree to disagree with me.

This story appears to be rather unpopular so far. However, for those of you who are still enjoying it, I assure you that it will not be left unfinished.

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xxxx

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Renji sat in a hidden alcove attached to the formal meeting place of the Kuchiki council of elders. Despite the wealth and prestige of the Kuchiki, it was a sparsely furnished room, designed for deliberation without distraction. Yet, the history of a long-lived clan brought a solemn pressure to the room that Renji found akin to the more oppressive atmosphere of the First Division meeting hall. Here, too, men attempted to play with Fate across a smaller chessboard of human lives.

"I would you observed the Kuchiki at their worst, and perhaps, at their best," Byakuya had told him days ago.

"You're sure you want me there? After all, it's your clan thing." Byakuya declined to reply, though his arched eyebrow spoke volumes.

"Wouldn't have mentioned it otherwise, yeah, yeah." Renji grinned. "Full disclosure, huh? Want me to know what I'm getting into?"

"It could not be any other way." Grey eyes stared hard into his own crimson ones.

"You've got too many scruples. I've already seen the best." Renji gave him a meaningful smirk. "If the worst is as spectacular as the best, it will be a rare circus." An image of Byakuya dressed in top hat and dove grey morning coat with split tails, whip in gloved hands, flashed into his mind. Kuchiki Byakuya, ringmaster of the Kuchiki menagerie. He told Byakuya, whose lips turned downwards.

"Do try for some respect, Renji. The Kuchiki are not one of Seireitei's great families without a reason."

Renji gave Byakuya his best blinding white grin. "I respect you entirely, Byakuya." He leaned over for a quick peck and was gratified to observe the grey eyes soften. Byakuya had become easier with him over the past month. "It just remains to be seen if I can respect them."

"Much as it pains me to say this," Bykuya's voice was very dry. "You may find that there will be Kuchiki who may prove to be a challenge."

"Is that so?" Renji asked quizzically. "I don't really know what you nobles get up to, but men are men."

"Some men," murmured Byakuya, "have a particular gift."

Now, Renji watched as the Kuchiki council gradually assembled, snugly ensconced in his observer's post. Though Byakuya had called it an alcove, it was certainly more than that. Renji wondered briefly who else had used it. Furnished with small side tables and ample cushions, it was a comfortable space with a one-way view into the meeting room. It also had a kido barrier, meant to prevent its discovery by those in the main room, but Renji had to keep his reiatsu tightly reined in, since the barrier was too weak to hide it. For reasons of his own, Byakuya had not offered to reinforce the barrier.

Renji matched face to name as the room filled up. Twelve elders constituted the council and Byakuya presided over them. He wondered if any of the elders suspected that this conclave had been years in the making. It was only a fortnight ago that Byakuya had revealed his hand to a select few. Through Ukitake, a covert message had been sent requesting Shihouin Yoruichi's presence, then Byakuya, Ukitake, Yoruichi and Kyouraku had kido-locked themselves in the Thirteenth Division under the pretext of inter-division strategy meetings and put Byakuya's plans for the Kuchiki clan under the microscope, with Renji on the side as a observer. The other three had given him knowing looks, but said nothing, not even Yoruichi, who was inclined to tease. For the umpteenth time in the last two months, Renji wondered exactly when some very discreet rumours about him and Byakuya had seen the dark of night.

That first conclave had been an accelerated education in aristocratic politics, Seireitei style. Renji had never thought much about the nobles as a class—all his dealings with Byakuya and Kira had always been on a personal basis. If he had thought about the nobles clans at all, it had always been in terms of amorphous, faceless coteries speaking in highfaluting tones, dressed elaborately in choice silks and brocades.

Renji had always considered himself someone who, by token of his background, understood the realities of life. Listening to the four nobles, his estimation of his own naivety had soared. It was not so much the individual noble personalities they discussed. As accustomed to the hurly burly of command as he was, the reports he heard were no different from his knowledge of the men and women he led daily, shinigami of varying temperaments, character, talents and values who were forced into the indifferent intimacy of workplace and barracks. In that respect, he understood individual noble interests and motivations, which were often just as petty. What astounded him was the way each of the four nobles defined the role of the noble clans in Soul Society, their relationship to the Gotei Thirteen and the rest of Soul Society, and their thoughts on how those roles should be maintained. And they did not always agree with each other. That much became obvious to him as they debated their way through Byakuya's proposals.

With the thought that such ignorance was inappropriate for a taichou, he had paid assiduous, and fascinated, attention for the duration of the meeting. By the time they had disbanded for a well-deserved rest, Renji knew more about Soul Society and its history in three days than he ever had during all his time as a shinigami. And he had discovered in himself a taste for politics.

In the Kuchiki meeting room, Byakuya was greeting the first elder, a prosperous-looking middle-aged man dressed in rich brocade.

"Ryouma-sama. Permit me to offer my felicitations on your new house and your daughter's engagement. I hear that you have offered quite a substantial dowry." Byakuya paused, then added, "It is gratifying to know that our Kuchiki ventures are faring so well in your hands."

Despite the words, his voice was at its most expressionless, and for a moment, Renji felt Byakuya's reiatsu focus on the man, leaving him pale and shaking. Then, Byakuya was helping him to his seat and turning to welcome the next elder. A broad grin broke out across Renji's face. This Ryouma, he recalled, was one of the senior stewards of the Kuchiki holdings. "A extraordinary accountant," Byakuya had said astringently.

Once all were seated, Byakuya began his address to the council, his voice as flat and as impersonal as Renji had ever heard it, reiatsu under absolute control, giving no hint of his state of mind. Yet, he remembered the man of the previous night, face set with tension as they had stood side by side in the moonlight, taut lines easing only when Renji, with greatest care, had wrapped his reiatsu like a down cloak around the other. With a quick shake of his head, he returned his attention to the critical present.

"It has been of some concern to me that the traditions of the Kuchiki family have fallen into abeyance."

Renji saw a white haired Kuchiki of noble brow and proud features— Kuchiki Daisuke, he fancied— nodding importantly to Byakuya's words. Senior member of the old guard and the most obnoxiously conservative of the Kuchiki elders, he had opposed Byakuya's marriage and Rukia's adoption every inch of the way.

"This is the reason for today's convocation. Our vocation has unfortunately declined over time, and to arrest further deterioration, I have devised a proposal with several linked articles. In conjunction with this, I have judged this the most opportune moment to discuss the matter of the Kuchiki succession."

There was a minor furor at his words. Renji knew that Byakuya had hitherto ignored all approaches made on him on the subject of remarriage. "They're going to be in for a shock," he thought, smirking.

Another council member spoke up. "I beg pardon, Kuchiki-sama," he began politely. "But have you altered your position concerning a second marriage?"

Byakuya's voice remained expressionless. "I did not say that."

The room immediately erupted into loud protests. "What do you mean then?" clashed with "You have a duty to the clan!" and "I beg you, Kuchiki-sama, put an end to this farce of mourning!"

Byakuya's reiatsu spiked as he held up a hand. Under its force, the room quietened. "My answer remains unchanged. I have been married and that union proved unfruitful. Children born in Soul Society are rare and there is no surety that any union will be blessed with progeny." At the back of his mind, Renji wondered if Byakuya wanted children, but that was a consideration for another time.

"That is because your first wife was too frail, too weak in reiatsu, though we should not have expected anything more from one of her background." Abruptly, Kuchiki Daisuke choked, mouth hanging open, but no words emerging.

Byakuya's voice was arctic. "Kuchiki Hisana is the deceased lady of this clan. You made your pledge of allegiance to her at our nuptials and it is a pledge that extends beyond her death. A man so well-versed in our traditions will surely recall that, Councilor."

Turning to the rest of the room, he continued, "If there are no further interruptions, I will proceed."

A calm baritone voice spoke up. "The issue of the succession is a sensitive one, Kuchiki-sama. Perhaps you will elaborate on your other plan before we engage in further contention." The speaker was a thin, acetic-looking man with piercing eyes. Kuchiki Satoshi. With Byakuya, he was probably the most renowned of the Kuchiki. One of the most distinguished historians in Soul Society, his magnum opus on the formation of the Gotei Thirteen was required reading for all shinigami at the academy.

"A man respected within the clan and beyond," Byakuya had informed Renji. But one who kept his own counsel and did not always choose to intervene directly in clan matters, though a senior steward and influential even on the council. Renji recalled that earlier conversation with Byakuya.

"He is man of immense and diverse talents, and was summoned to serve the clan in ways which neglected his historian's calling. But I do not believe that he will be averse to resuming his studies."

"Have you spoken with him?"

Byakuya permitted himself a rare smile. "Just a few days past, we spoke in informal conversation." The grey eyes acquired a glint. "I mentioned my immense admiration for his work and expressed the regret that the demands of the Kuchiki family had separated him from such a notable vocation. I ventured the hope that he had not completely laid down his pen." His lids lowered and his smile became more pronounced. "Then, I asked if he remembered Grandfather's old joke about Kuchiki sinecures. He replied that the joke was a source of sorrow for him." A pause for Renji to digest the account so far. "Finally, I also alluded to earlier clan leaders and their varied backgrounds." His voice acquired a tinge of satisfaction. "Today, I receive this note from him."

He handed the note over to Renji. On it was written, "Hikaru and I are yours to command." Both uncle and nephew sat on the council.

Renji's eyebrows rose as he absorbed the note, and a knowing grin spread across his face. "You Kuchiki," he snickered, "always have to be so subtle." Abruptly, he was enclosed in an amorous clasp, his mouth thoroughly inspected. "Not always," murmured Byakuya, when they resumed breathing.

In his alcove, the faintest trace of a smirk lingered on Renji's lips as he returned his attention to Byakuya's speech.

"We have turned away from the primary duty of the Kuchiki family to pursue frivolous ends incongruent with the work of our ancestors. Elders of the clan, what are the Kuchiki?"

Once again, it was Kuchiki Daisuke who replied. "Surely that is an easy question, Kuchiki-sama." His voice held a hint of condescension, the supreme confidence of a noble who was not easily cowed, Renji reflected. "We are one of the four great noble houses of Soul Society."

"That is incorrect." Byakuya's flat voice took the wind out of the other's sails and he sat back, jowls hanging. "What was Kuchiki Tadahira, founder of the Kuchiki family?"

This time, it was the historian who answered. "He was one of the first taichous of the Gotei Thirteen, a peerless warrior. Yet at the height of his power, he retired his sword and engaged the arts of the pen. His vision was an encompassing one—to create an independent archive for Soul Society and a continuous line of historians who would serve as impartial commentators on the events and institutions of Soul Society. He believed that these historians would interact with, but not constitute part of the Gotei Thirteen and its organs. This was in order to retain the integrity of their calling and provide a resource untouched by the machinations of power. A man of high ideals." The cadences of his rich baritone deepened. "And for all that, a very practical man. He understood that to remain impartial, the Kuchiki would have to build its bases of power. And so, he created a clan, by affiliation and by adoption, whose members would seek influence in the Gotei 13 and Central 46 in order to protect the Kuchiki historians and archives, and he laid an economic foundation to maintain their work. Perhaps he foresaw that we Kuchiki would one day forget his original intent and the centrality of the historical project, but he organized the clan so that the archives would always remain integral to the family."

Some of the elders were looking at Kuchiki Satoshi in surprise. "We have never heard you speak of our ancestor, Satoshi," one finally said. It was one of the two females on the council. "My grandfather was nephew to one and she, despite appearances, is fond of me. The other is a cousin," Byakuya had explained. Renji could not tell them apart, for they looked very similar, with what he had come to think of as the Kuchiki grey eyes and white hair framing proud faces.

"I have written of him," the historian replied, "but to remind us of his legacy to the Kuchiki is the province of the clan leader. Given the upheavals of the past century in Soul Society, it is undeniably the most appropriate time to once again assess our performance as the historians and archivists of Soul Society." Mild as his voice was, the words held an undoubted sting.

"Indeed, our archives are in a state of disarray." Once again, Byakuya regained control of the room. "We have records, but no organization; information, but no appraisal, archivists; but no historians. It is not merely a matter of tradition. Our lack of attention is indefensible. You may recall the Bount invasion, which nearly resulted in the destruction of Soul Society if the Gotei Thirteen had not intervened." Several faces showed only blank confusion.

Byakuya's reiatsu turned razor sharp and the elders flinched. "I see that you are unaware of that incident." His tone was a rebuke. "It was an attempt to incinerate Soul Society by triggering simultaneous explosions of jokaisho." At his words, the elders paled. They understood the exponential power created by exploding power sources. Renji found a moment to marvel at the mutual ignorance of shinigami and nobles. The Bount incident was one which still gave him nightmares from the sheer terror of how close they had come to the edge.

Byakuya's dry voice continued. "I was charged by the Soutaicho to search our archives. Fortunately for us, other sources of information were available at that time concerning the jokaisho." A touch of irony entered his tone. "After the event, I found corroborating evidence in our archives." He paused for his words to take effect on the slightly stunned audience.

Finally, another elder spoke. "What would you have us do, Kuchiki-sama?" His tone was almost humble.

Renji's muscles tensed in anticipation. Here it came, the culmination of Byakuya's planning.

"Restore our historians and our archives to the centrality they deserve. First, establish the position of chief archivist. In matters pertaining to the archives, his decisions will be final, and can only be overturned by the clan head in consultation with a quarter of the council. The chief archivist will be appointed by the council and can be relieved of his position only with the consent of a full quorum of the council."

The room fell still with a shocked suddenness as the elders absorbed the implications. In one sweep, Byakuya had created the second most important position in the clan.

"More of the family funds will be committed to the archives, and an emergency reserve fund will also be created. The chief archivist will be responsible for the historians' and archive budget, again subject to the approval of the clan head and three other members of the council." Byakuya handed out a stack of sheets and pointed out a number of the more important figures. Several elders, whom Renji recognized as senior stewards, nodded as they looked over the figures.

"Second, train suitable members of our clan. The historians of our clan will be essential to its future, and those of aptitude must be convinced of the honour and importance of their position. We will honour the Kuchiki historians in every way and make that known." For the briefest moment, Byakuya's attention appeared fixed on the elder seated at the end of the table. Renji concentrated briefly, and the man's name came to his mind. Kuchiki Ichirou, the one whose favourite great niece was an archivist. He was attempting to arrange a marriage for her with one of the Shihouin scions, but the man's family was balking at the low profile the girl had in the Kuchiki family.

"Third, write a protocol that defines the responsibilities and duties of each Kuchiki vis-à-vis the clan and the external organizations to which they might belong. With respect to the Kuchiki shinigami, our duty is to defeat hollows, perform soul burials and defend Soul Society. However, we have no guide for our response when these duties come into conflict with our Kuchiki duty to protect the integrity of our archives."

"Fourth, station our historians in various Rukongai districts." Byakuya paused. He would not have been heard otherwise in the resulting uproar. Then, "Enough." His voice cut through the tumult of voices. "The Kuchiki are the historians of Soul Society, not Seireitei. And Soul Society is changing. The power of reiatsu is not the only power there is. In Rukongai lies strength of numbers, and even reiatsu that we in Seireitei cannot ignore. It would be better to ally with that than fight it. We need to build contacts and sources of information in Rukongai."

He looked around the room. "It is not intended to be a hardship posting. The historians who go to Rukongai will be amply compensated." Several elders looked skeptical and disdainful. Renji mused that they were probably recalling what the clan described as "Kuchiki-sama's notorious predilection for the denizens of Rukongai". But Byakuya had already moved to another topic. Heavy ground covered lightly.

"All this depends on our ability to find a suitable chief archivist in our clan. Doubtless we will each have an appropriate candidate in mind."

At that point, Kuchiki Daisuke coughed in interjection, drawing the attention of the room.

"Kuchiki-sama, now that you have presented your first proposal, perhaps we should return to the issue of the Kuchiki succession before we vote on the archives."

Renji nearly snorted out loud. A not unexpected reaction from the senior fox on the council. Surely he should have realized by now that Byakuya was as uncompromising as rock. When he presented two proposals before the council, it meant that both were non-negotiable.

Kuchiki Daisuke's words were echoed by some members, though others frowned. Renji's sharp eyes noted the various reactions.

Byakuya allowed a brief space to lapse before he took up the reins again. "As for the matter of the Kuchiki succession, I have decided that it is in the best interests of our clan to scrutinize the talents of each individual member. Therefore, I will be selecting a pool of potential candidates from among the Kuchiki who will be adopted into the main family. From this pool a successor will be chosen."

The room immediately descended into chaos. Through the shouting, Renji traced several different responses. Some were concerned with the extinguishing of the main family and the acrimonious splitting of the clan over succession disputes, others expostulated that Byakuya had failed in his duty to his family, yet others shouted for calm and further discussion. Byakuya merely waited them out with exquisite patience.

Finally, Kuchiki Daisuke managed to out shout the rest. His face was flushed with fury. "Here is a counter-proposal," he said viciously, "I vote that we remove Kuchiki Byakuya for failing in his duty to the family and select a new clan head."

The sudden silence was jarring. Renji held his breath. This was a scenario they had predicted, but if Byakuya managed to ride it out with most of the Kuchiki elders behind him, it would only strengthen his hand. The elders sat frozen in their positions, disconcerted by the sudden turn of events.

The stalemate was broken by an incongruous chuckle. "Ah, Daisuke, if we did that, you would be according with the spirit of Kuchiki-sama's proposal." The baritone was dulcet. "After all, he is proposing that we select the next clan leader in place of having the position inherited by right of birth."

The tension in the room immediately abated, several elders smiling at Kuchiki Satoshi's clever response. But Renji, who was watching Kuchiki Daisuke, saw the malice in the man's eyes deepen. His first sally had been repelled but the man had not discharged all his ammunition.

As Renji expected, Kuchiki Daisuke's next foray came almost immediately, his voice insidiously insinuating. "Are you certain this is not yet another excuse for your vices, Kuchiki-sama?" The title was spoken with a mock deference that indicated the opposite. "Don't think we haven't noticed you running after that Rukongai mongrel of yours, with all those cozy suppers for two, and long intimate walks." As much as the crisp accent could, a leer was suggested. "It has become a scandal in the family."

Renji gritted his teeth and thrust his reiatsu down. Though he and Byakuya shied at public displays of their relationship, they had not hidden their attachment, making the decision to start as they meant to proceed. As a matter of protocol, Yamamoto soutaichou had been discreetly informed, but the old war horse had merely extended his best wishes to them. As for the Kuchiki clan, that was a matter for Byakuya to handle. He looked in fond admiration at Byakuya's back— the man's reiatsu had not even flickered.

The voice, too, was uninflected. "Despite your accusation, Daisuke-sama, my decision to broaden the pool of Kuchiki heirs is not a result of my association with Abarai Taichou-elect."

"Taichou-elect?" A hum ran through the room. Renji noted that few were the faces that did not appear surprised, but Kuchiki Satoshi's was among them.

"Abarai Taichou will lead the Fifth Division. It has been the most important piece of information circulating around the Gotei Thirteen since he accept the position a month ago." The censure was implied. "However, the official announcement will be made later today."

Renji watched several expressions turn calculating as their owners consider the implications of his promotion for the Kuchiki clan. If the rumours of his relationship with Byakuya were true, they would have to weigh the potential advantages of an alliance with a taichou unaffiliated with any of the other noble clans. Two taichous in a clan was an almost unheard of occurrence.

Kuchiki Daisuke, however, was not done. "The price of association, Kuchiki-sama?" he sneered. "Would that you used such influence for your own clan!"

Abruptly, Byakuya's reiatsu was a crushing weight on the room. "You will not repeat that statement in other less secure places, Kuchiki Daisuke, as it will only bring shame on the Kuchiki." The reiatsu lifted. "You malign not only me but also Yamamoto soutaichou and the seven other taichous who supported Abarai Taichou's promotion, not to mention Abarai Taichou himself. They would take it as a personal insult, as do I." He paused as Kuchiki Daisuke paled, then continued impassively, "I myself tested Abarai Taichou's bankai. We fought to a draw."

"A draw?" Mutters arose around the room. The elders were well aware of their clan leader's fame and power, and had tasted his reiatsu this day. The ramifications were astounding. Renji could see the inner wheels turning once again.

Raising his voice slightly, Byakuya recalled them to the matter at hand. "This is not the place to discuss the affairs of the Gotei Thirteen." When he had secured their attention, he continued, "Pursuant to my proposal to select the next Kuchiki clan head, I will also support the adoption of any Kuchiki by blood who have not been recognized by the clan. I do not believe that their birth outside legally recognized bonds should prevent their recognition by the clan nor deprive them of the support they are entitled to receive by virtue of their blood. If proven worthy, they, too, will be admitted to the pool of potential Kuchiki heirs."

One of the elders was looking very thoughtful. From his appearance, Renji identified him as Kuchiki Reisuke. According to Byakuya, he had been involved in a long-term affair with his housekeeper, who had given him two sons in rapid succession. But with the upset caused by Byakuya's marriage and adoption of Rukia, he had hesitated to legalize his union or legitimize his sons. The older was now a very promising sixth year student at the shinigami academy while the younger would be sitting for the entrance exam that year.

Another elder was raising objections. "I have two concerns, Kuchiki-sama. I do not wish to see our clan weakened by succession disputes, as was the experience of the Shihouin a century ago. I am also of the opinion that it would be a pity if you were the last of your line, given the strength of the main family. I would even suggest that your duty lies in producing a blood heir to maintain that strength."

Byakuya inclined his head graciously. "These concerns are justified, Ryuusuke-sama. Permit me to address the latter concern first. As head of the Kuchiki clan, it is my duty to see to the succession. However, I do believe that this duty is best fulfilled by examining the current members of the clan and promoting the most talented. We have been too dependent on one line of the family, and if it is to flourish, it necessitates that all the Kuchiki work in the interests of the family. Furthermore, adoption is a time-honoured tradition to maintain strength in a family line. The strength of the main family that you mentioned is an illusion perpetuated by the fact that I succeeded Grandfather as the Kuchiki head and as Taichou of the Sixth Division. There is no indication that a child of my loins will have the same strength, and you will recall that my honoured father's talents lay in other directions. Perhaps a living world term, distasteful though it is, might best describe my situation. Serendipity, or Providence, given the upheavals Soul Society has suffered in the past century."

"I am also familiar with the records of the past Kuchiki heads. Perhaps you were unaware that only a third of the Kuchiki successions were father-son or grandfather-grandson successions. The rest were cousins, or nephews, or brothers. Many of these heirs were established through adoption to bolster the main family."

Once again, a muttering arose in the room as members consulted their memories. Renji could feel the subtle shifts in the room as interests collided and alliances realigned.

"As for the threat of disruption, it is my argument that the rewards of pooling the talents of the Kuchiki will outweigh the risks. In the case of the Shihouin, the disappearance of its clan leader had already left the clan in disarray. I am also aware that the living world record shows that the lack of a designated heir has led to much bloody internecine chaos. However, the Kuchiki have a properly constituted council and an acknowledged clan leader. We also have what the humans do not—time. Time to test our candidates, and time before the next leader must succeed."

Kuchiki Ryuusuke bowed. "You are very convincing, Kuchiki-sama. However, both your proposals have such immense consequences that we will need time to examine them in more detail. I will also suggest that we treat them as two separate proposals."

Byakuya returned the bow. "A wise suggestion, Ryuusuke-sama. However, I convened this conclave today to request in-principle agreement from the council, so that the Kuchiki clan will be a united force on these issues. May I hope that we are not far from that agreement? I have had copies of my proposals prepared for you and I stand ready to answer your questions."

… …

Several hours later, Renji uncurled himself from his cushion and stretched out his arms. The debate had gone on for hours, as they had expected. But Byakuya had prevailed, though the voting had been close on the succession issue, tipping in Byakuya's favour only through his personal vote. The elders were now variously departing, Byakuya speaking with them individually as they left till only Kuchiki Daisuke and Kuchiki Satoshi remained.

Kuchiki Daisuke glared at Byakuya. "You will be the downfall of the Kuchiki clan," he proclaimed.

Byakuya remained unperturbed. "I have done as my duty dictates, Daisuke-sama, as have you in your long service to the Kuchiki clan." He inclined his head and continued in his flattest monotone, "The events of the past century have been unsettling to you. I can only express regret that you have been troubled by all these matters in your position as an elder of the council. I would you had been spared this by this point."

For a heartbeat of a moment, Kuchiki Daisuke's eyes widened incredulously. Then, redder than he had been, he swept out of the room.

Renji held a hand to his mouth to muffle a laugh. There were still one other Kuchiki in the room besides Byakuya.

"A dangerous enemy." The baritone voice said mildly.

Byakuya acknowledged the statement with a nod. The other continued, "A masterly performance, befitting the head of the Kuchiki clan. And two bold and innovative proposals. You have more than fulfilled the hopes your grandfather vested in you, Kuchiki Byakuya."

Byakuya's nod deepened to a bow. "High praise from the new Chief Archivist of the Kuchiki." There was warmth in his voice. During the course of the proceedings, the council had decided that only Kuchiki Satoshi was fit to be the new Chief Archivist.

The pale grey eyes, so like Byakuya's, slid sideways to Renji's place of concealment. Renji started, though perhaps he should not have been surprised at the historian's perspicacity. "And," began the baritone almost playfully, "if the Chief Archivist may ask, what does Kuchiki Byakuya, Taichou of the Sixth Division, lord of the Kuchiki, have to say about Abarai Renji, Taichou of the Fifth Division?"

A slight smile touched Byakuya's lips as he dismissed the kido barrier and Renji appeared, bowing to Kuchiki Satoshi. "Abarai Renji," he began, while the syllables of his own name on that tongue sent a shiver down Renji's spine, "has been forged by his experiences into a man of courage and conviction. He is a man I am proud to claim." He beckoned Renji over and a silent message passed between them. "As for the rest, dine with us and discover for yourself."

Extended conclusion:

"The gods have been too profligate with their gifts," commented Kuchiki Satoshi as Renji lifted the kido preservation spell from yet another dish.

Renji grinned. "Funny, that's what Byakuya said the first time I cooked for him."

The historian looked at Byakuya. "You are a fortunate young man, Byakuyashi. Had I been a century or two younger, I would have given you a run for your money."

Byakuya's eyes gleamed, though his expression was imperturbable. "You would hardly have met Renji except through me, Satoshi-sama."

"Ah, young love, how possessive it is, and how it sets afire even the hoariest heart." Kuchiki Satoshi's smile deepened as he saw Renji jerk. "Did I surprise you? Surely you know the saying, "Love and a cough cannot be hidden."

His mien sobered as it turned to Byakuya. "Kuchiki-sama, permit an old man to be frank. You have been acknowledged as the strongest leader of the clan because of the strength of your bankai but you were like dead wood for five decades—as no leader should be." Then his expression lightened. "Now that the green is returning to the sere, can every right-minded Kuchiki but embrace the man who has inspired this reversal?"


	6. Consummation

Title: Consummation

Characters: Renji, Byakuya (ByaRenBya)

Rating: R in thought, word and, perhaps not, deed.

Summary: 5th part of Renji – Reflection.

Warning: Frank language. Fluff. Oxymoron?

Disclaimer: Own no part of Bleach, not even bleach

A/N If you were expecting much of this chapter, especially given the title, you will be disappointed. However, if you enjoy fluff, then this chapter might go like angel food cake with your favorite cuppa.

If you would be so kind as to imagine the Godfather theme song "Speak Softly Love" while reading, it will serve as more than appropriate background music. Fortunately, Renji does not have to return to his parents.

Red, gold and white are colors used in traditional Japanese weddings. The san san kudo is a beautiful custom where the bride and groom share sake. No, there is no marriage ceremony in this chapter. No, really.

Fans of Kasey Michaels's detective fiction will recognize a little idea I borrowed from her.

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Two figures clad in shinigami black made their leisurely way through the extensive Kuchiki gardens, stopping at the boundary of a languid little stream. They stood there in companionable silence until the taller of the two spoke.

"Byakuya, would you ask me to stay tonight?"

A quick inhalation from the other. Abruptly, heavy significance weighed down the night as it held its breath for a million heartbeats. Then,

"Will you stay the night, Renji?"

His hand clasped was answer enough. They slipped away as quietly as they had arrived, a newly drugged night trailing in their wake.

With almost dreamy languor, Byakuya concluded his ablutions and knotted the plain sleeping robe at his waist. In the next room, he could hear the bustle of his servants placing extra lamps and other assorted items. He had ordered that the chamber be well-lit, though his quietly efficient household staff had doubtless added other touches of comfort.

He lingered at the doorway, savoring the moment before entering his bedchamber, though there was no hesitation in him over the direction the night would take—if his actions had reflected the heat of his senses, his hands would have long since gained license to rove, before, behind and every portion between.

Tonight he would see an end to five decades of corporal celibacy. He had ceased mourning Hisana before the war had begun, but indiscriminate indulgence in the flesh had never been a vice of his, despite the opportunities available to a man of his rank, position and appearance. Nor was a long-term and discreet arrangement to satisfy physical imperatives to his taste. He had concluded that he was a man of austere habits and had taken no little pride in his restraint, though in recent months, the industry of his imagination had utterly whittled that judgment away. Celibate in mind and heart he no longer was, and he had bid adieu to that sere celibacy a season ago, when he realized that heart and mind had not entered the barrenness of an eternal autumn, but had merely lain fallow. That realization had brought him a sense of quietly joyous gratification. Now, the thought of the hours ahead with Renji made him thrum.

But Byakuya had schooled himself to patience. Not born a patient man, he had pursued that virtue, just as he had mastered Senbonzakura petal by petal. This night, his purpose was to employ that hard-won control to distill the significance of their joining to its very dregs, to plunder every last iridescent sigh.

This intent he would have conveyed to Renji, but it appeared that Renji, too, understood delay. The lure of physical intimacy had always beckoned siren-like since that first moment of recognition, but both had seemed disinclined to rush into her embrace with reckless abandon. That first evening in that well-hidden retreat had been spent madly kissing in the twilight, nor had they lacked for passionate interludes since, but in vivid counterpoint to the possibilities that lay within Byakuya's admittedly limited knowledge, their conduct was almost as decorous as that of a mast-bound Odysseus.

For one so audacious on all fronts, one who had, in truth, taken hold of his courage and made the first overtures towards Byakuya, Renji was even more reticent in physical matters than Byakuya himself. Byakuya knew that he was an undemonstrative man by choice, but in no way had his manner to Renji been discouraging. In fact, if one were to measure boldness of approach, Byakuya considered himself well ahead of the other man, leaping forward while Renji took small steps. Yet, there was no hitherto unsuspected frigidity in Renji—he was inevitably an eager participant wherever Byakuya led. And Byakuya had left Renji in no doubt any advances he might choose to make would be well-received, an invitation Renji had not taken full advantage of till this evening. And now, with his characteristic breathtaking fearlessness, he had once again acted with summary decision. Byakuya, who had almost resigned himself to Renji's pace, was suddenly plunged into the maelstrom of unfettered passion. It… enthralled him.

Yet, when all was said and done, this slow, sweet wooing had resonated with the deepest part of him. Perhaps it was his noble upbringing— the almost ritualistic act of proceeding by stages in mutual courtship, however unintentional, appealed to his sense of order and propriety. There was satisfaction in seeing the architecture of their lives, already so closely linked, form post to beam, joint by joint, before his eyes. He and Renji had, over the years, learnt to be taichou and fukutaichou while navigating at the same time some species of friendship. Over the past months, they had become lovers and peers. He would not— could not— repine a single moment of this season. And for this night, he would that it were within his power to stay the hand of time, so that his hands might cradle every second.

A familiar footstep sounded, and he heard the respectful and muted greetings made to the new entrant. Sliding a panel open, he luxuriated in the sensations that began in his chest as his heart beat a slow, deep rhythm. Renji was dressed in a plain robe similar to his, carelessly belted so the edges of his tattoos showed at the lapels, red hair casually braided to the side and resting over his heart. The reality of his presence in Byakuya's chamber stamped the moment with a clarity that even his most vibrant imaginings could not rival. But on his mobile face Byakuya did not descry that intimate, private smile of his most tender musings or even Renji's easy grin, but an expression of blank astonishment.

Renji looked around Byakuya's bedchamber, unable to contain his surprise. It was his first visit to that chamber, since some previously quiescent strain of modesty had surfaced reminding him that it would be unseemly to view Byakuya's bedchamber if he was unprepared to proceed to bedroom acts, despite all that had passed between them in the past months or that they were lovers in every sense of the word except the physical. Of course, Byakuya had been in his fukutaichou's quarters many times, but unlike Byakuya who had more rooms in his residence than he had uses for, Renji had but one large room that served many purposes, and his sleeping futon was always folded up and discreetly tucked away in a corner in most instances, which made any awkwardness moot. His new Taichou's residence had dedicated spaces.

But he had never expected that Byakuya's chamber would be decorated like a boudoir, and apparently, neither had Byakuya. His steward was already replying to the raised eyebrow.

"Our young lady's orders, my lord."

"Rukia's orders." Byakuya's tone was moderate. "Repeat to me her exact orders, Senzo."

The steward bowed. "Last week, our young lady said that if Abarai Taichou," he bowed respectfully in Renji's direction, "were ever to stay beyond the evening, I was to prepare my lord's bedchamber according to her detailed instructions. The young lady also provided many of the items." He indicated the room.

Byakuya surveyed the chamber comprehensively. His futon was laid out in its usual position, but instead of the usual plain silk, the bedclothes were now colorful splashes of red, gold and white, while another pillow had been added. Though he kept his expression impassive, his mind applauded Rukia's choice. Apart from the ceremonial implications of those colours, those exact shades were calibrated to display Renji—hair, eyes, skin and markings— to the best effect. He heard the latter hurriedly strangle a choke and glanced across at him.

Renji could feel the flush mounting his cheeks. In the well-lit room, he had seen Byakuya's eyes turn a very recognizable shade of gray as he eyed the futon with keen interest, that particular gray that preceded one of Byakuya's passionate onslaughts. Throw the futon into the fray, and Renji could almost feel himself pinioned to it. His eyes spotted the pile of brightly colored silks of varying lengths that lay neatly on a tray besides the futon and he swallowed the wrong way. He hardly dared to imagine what the closed box next to the silks contained, while the fragrant oils warming in the exquisitely wrought shallow porcelain dishes at the head of the futon needed little introduction. Could Rukia have been more ruthlessly thorough? For a moment, Renji wondered what precisely Rukia knew or imagined about their relationship.

Then he shook himself—this maiden-like confusion was unbecoming. He had understandable qualms, but it was not like Abarai Renji—who knew who and what he was and where he was headed— to be so easily flustered. This night, though a milestone for both of them—and he sensed enough intent emanating from Byakuya to believe that he aimed at the unforgettable— was merely natural progression in their relationship. He had accepted all it entailed the moment he had returned Byakuya's kiss those months ago. He needed neither hand-holding nor coaxing, and the gods help anyone who tried to do that once Zabimaru was done with him. Something in him, however, had eased when Byakuya had shown only patience and respectful tenderness towards his tentative essays. Rome, after all, had not been built within a day, nor could the future be settled by a tumble. But it was time to catch up with Byakuya again and lay another foundation. Renji took a deep breath.

"Rukia's too old to smack, isn't she?" he asked with wry irony. His eyes circled the room, then stopped at a low table with a teapot and boxes of bite-sized confections. "I made those," he added, gesturing. Byakuya recognized Renji's signature of bold design and very traditional ingredients. "I thought she wanted them for the SWA or something, since she asked for flower themes, never thought they were meant for us." Renji shook his head as his rueful grin expanded.

"Indeed," responded Byakuya, his eyes taking in the large arrangements of flora and verdure scattered around the room. Renji's reiatsu had flickered uncertainly at the sight of the chamber, but now resumed its customary sharpness. But he should never have doubted his fortitude. He turned to Senzo. "Where is Rukia?"

The steward bowed. "Our young lady said that she would be away with friends. Kurosaki-san and Inoue-san came as her escort not an hour ago."

Byakuya and Renji exchanged glances. At times, discretion and ignorance were the better part of valor, especially with Rukia. Byakuya waved his hand to dismiss his servants. At the door, Senzo bowed deeply and said, "My lord, if you would forgive our impudence, the household would like to take the liberty of extending our heartfelt wishes and welcoming Abarai Taichou."

Alone with Renji, Byakuya looked towards his blushing lover. Idly, he wondered, not for the first time, how far Renji's blushes extended and how best to exploit them. Gracefully, he knelt at the table holding sake and cups and beckoned toward Renji.

"Sake?"

Renji snorted as he knelt across from Byakuya. "You know it's more than sake. Rukia has the subtlety of a hammer. Did she think we would not know what to do?"

Byakuya's lips twitched. "I believe this is in the nature of a warning." He indicated the three cups.

Renji snorted again. "That we had better, or else?" He picked up the pot of sake. "Shall we then?" Byakuya laid his hands over Renji's and they solemnly tipped the pot over the cups, then began again and poured. As they sipped, then poured again and sipped, the smile on Renji's face was mirrored by the answering glimmer in Byakuya's eyes.

Table set aside, they knelt in contented silence, relishing the quiet pleasure of pledges made and promises honored. Renji's smile still graced his features, though his eyes would not entirely meet Byakuya's. Finally, Byakuya spoke, a thread of amusement in his voice, "Surely we can manage this gracefully, Renji. After all, neither of us are shy virgins here."

"Speak for yourself," Renji muttered, then shot Byakuya a horrified look and turned a dull red. As he absorbed Renji's reaction, all the pieces suddenly fell into place. Renji's skittishness, his frequent blushing, the initial awkwardness of his limbs when Byakuya kissed him, which Byakuya had attributed to the difference in their height, and his hesitation in moving towards physical fulfillment. Byakuya had been so intoxicated by Renji's proximity that he had ignored all the signs.

Now, he decided, he was charmed. As to other sentiments, he would admit that his knees would not bear him up if he were so foolish as to try rising to his feet at this point. But there was no need for that, and there was much that he intended. The first was to punish Renji, just a little, for not confiding in him previously. Their timetable would have remained unaltered, he acknowledged with hindsight, but it would have been appropriate to know such an important fact about the man he loved, rather than make the discovery through a careless slip of the tongue on the very night he was, oh gods, to deflower him. His heart skittered for a suspended moment at the image, and he quickly returned his attention to Renji in the present.

"To what you do refer?" he inquired mildly. "The shy, the virgin, or perhaps both?" His amusement deepened as Renji emerged from his mortification to glare at him.

Renji's firm lips pressed shut and his eyes narrowed as he refused to dignify the comment with an answer. Renji knew he could be an argumentative man, but somehow, he had never truly fought with Byakuya since their disagreement over Rukia's rescue. That had been so fraught with significance that he never quite wanted to quarrel with Byakuya over petty matters since, though he had respectfully offered the occasional contrary opinion. Besides, the other did not enjoy bickering, unlike so many of Renji's other friends, which took all enjoyment out of the exercise. It had surprised him to learn how many of his grumblings Byakuya had actually paid heed to.

In this case, he could hardly take issue with the content of Byakuya's question, nor could he bring forth an insouciant "yes, I'm a virgin but hardly shy" accompanied by a wink. His blush would belie that. He could only remain stubbornly silent to the fond merriment in Byakuya's eyes.

Byakuya relented rapidly. The frustration growing in the frown on Renji's face was not conducive to the conduct of the night. He leaned forward and picked up Renji's unresisting hands, bringing them to his lips. "You should have told me," he murmured gently against Renji's fingers. "I would have courted you differently." He dropped a series of kisses across Renji's knuckles, nibbling and tasting as he went.

Good humour seeped backed into Renji's eyes as his hands tightened in Byakuya's. "How so?" he asked, laughter in his voice. "I have never been unwilling, Byakuya, only slow. And you have never pushed."

"No, but I would have persuaded." Byakuya slid along the mat until he was knee-to-knee with Renji. Reaching out with one hand, he let a swathe of crimson hair spill through his fingers, then he brought the ends to his lips.

"Beckoned." Gently, he wound the red silk around the flat of his palm and drew Renji in.

"Enticed." He leaned forward and rested the other hand against Renji's heart. Its deep, steady beat pleased him. His hand slipped under the robe and rested against warm bare skin. Renji's heart skipped a beat as he shivered in reaction, and Byakuya felt the responding pulse in his own blood.

Finally, his lips brushed Renji's. "Seduced," he murmured, the pitch so low it vibrated across all of Renji's senses.

Obediently, Renji parted his lips to the feel of Byakuya's mouth, but instead of the impassioned intrusion he expected, Byakuya's lips hovered lightly over his for an instant, then tantalized with a flutter of light kisses, backwards and forwards, like the difference between weak sunlight and weak shade, so faint Renji felt the difference as intuition rather then sensation. His heart twisted in his chest-- he had not thought that Byakuya could be so gentle. "More," he whispered.

Byakuya caught his breath. Renji's eyes were luminous, like rubies caught against black velvet, and the expression on his face was soft with wonder. At the back of his mind, he thrice damned himself for a fool. These past months, he could have shared this exquisitely poignant tenderness with Renji if he had thought beyond the wild energy of their initial encounter. He had seen the fire that was Renji and had only recognized conflagration, allowing the many different faces of fire to slip from his mind. This was like the first warmth that crept across daybreak. He had known that there was delicate feeling between them-- Renji's very invitation had brushed like spider silk against his senses, but once again he had misjudged both their limits. There will be more gentleness and more tenderness, he silently vowed. You and I, we will be everything we can possibly be.

With a muffled groan, he settled a tiny kiss on the side of Renji's mouth, then licked the area he had caressed, allowing his tongue to run across the seam of Renji's lips till it found its terminus at the other corner. Again, another barely there salutation. Light as gossamer, Byakuya explored the landscape of Renji's features, lingering over each line and each curve, while Renji closed his eyes in agonized sweetness. As his lips rested against Renji's eyelids and marveled at the fineness of their texture, Renji trembled and his arms went around Byakuya's waist with emphatic fierceness. He buried his face against the cradle of Byakuya's neck, muttering fiercely, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you..."

Byakuya held Renji until the tremors stopped. "I am sorry," he said quietly. "I did not know."

"Now you do." Renji's voice was hushed.

Byakuya's next question was equally low. "Were you never tempted?"

"Before you?" Renji asked in surprise. Byakuya gave a tiny nod.

Renji gathered his thoughts. His body was heavy with languor, but his mind was lucid with a crystal-like awareness that found all the words he needed. "Well," he began, "Growing up in Inuzuru was always a matter of not tempting others rather than being tempted, if you get what I mean. We also had a pact that if we were unwilling to sell, then we wouldn't buy either, and we normally kept pretty much within our own groups so there was really never any mutual exchange going on with others outside the group. Within the group, we were more siblings than anything, so that was that. Besides, Rukia was the only girl in our group, and you know what she's like."

He paused, considered his words, and shuddered a little. "No, not Rukia." Then he chuckled. "I guess fifty years of separation really messed with my mind. I can't believe I thought I was in love with Rukia." His expression sobered. "Even so, I don't think I ever imagined being with her like this." He nodded towards the futon. "I think if she decided to be with someone, I'd beat the stuffing out of them, give them a stern warning about hurting her, then sit them down and ask them if they were insane."

He grinned at the bemused expression on Byakuya's face. "Come on, Byakuya, you know you agree with me."

One corner of Byakuya's mouth twitched upwards. "Told you," said Renji with satisfaction.

"Then," continued Renji, picking up his account again, "at the academy, I found some form of family with Hinamori and Kira, though we were never as close as my Rukongai family, and we were worked so hard and worked each other so hard that there was hardly any time to think about things like that."

His arms left Byakuya's waist as he clasped the latter's hands and lifted them to his lips. He allowed his teeth to graze Byakuya's knuckles, then licked them, smirking at the latter's blink of astonishment. "I can learn, you'll see." In his voice lay the promise of future seduction. "And of course, there was the shock of overwhelming first impressions. Chasing you became my goal, through graduation and through the ranks of the Gotei divisions. And in between, I just never met anyone."

Holding Byakuya's eyes, he lowered his head and pressed kisses against Byakuya's wrists. "And one day, I looked up and you were there." His wolf's grin held more than a hint of embarrassment. "And that's all I'm going to say about this, Kuchiki Byakuya, because I feel like a utter sap now. Zabimaru'll disown me for sure."

"It would be a most unfortunate occurrence," Byakuya's dry voice agreed. "At the risk of invoking Zabimaru's further disdain, permit me to thank you for waiting, Abarai Renji."

"I wasn't exactly waiting, you know," came the surprised response. "There just wasn't anyone."

Oblivious, thought Byakuya. He proceeded to enlighten the other. "Renji, the thirteen fukutaichous are the highest ranking shinigami in Soul Society after the thirteen taichous, and power and position will always attract." He checked himself, and continued in the same mildly sardonic tone. "Not to mention that you were the most striking-looking man among the fukutaichous. I have heard you propositioned more times than I care to recall over the years by those men and women who follow you around."

"Those were propositions?" Renji's brow was furrowed. "No wonder they never really wanted to spar."

Innocence, Byakuya decided, was its own protection. He quirked an eyebrow.

"Byakuya," Renji was looking thoughtful, "those propositions have increased recently, haven't they?" Byakuya thought of the letters he sometimes abstracted from Renji's inbox and lowered his lids.

"How do you deal with all of that?" Byakuya's eyes opened again. Renji's expression was half-serious, half-abashed.

"I mean, I'm newly promoted and already it's like this. I didn't want to think about all this before so I didn't, but in some ways, it is a discipline problem, isn't it? And can create dissension in a division if some of my people perceive that they are being slighted. I can't always laugh it off with a joke or willfully misunderstand, not as Taichou. Especially within the division, though it's more difficult if it's coming from other divisions. And there will be shinigami I will want to groom, and I don't want them to be tarred with the same brush. But you, how do you do it? You've been a captain for decades, you're Kuchiki Byakuya, for goodness' sake, and you… well, look at you."

Even now, thought Byakuya, Renji could surprise him. But he should not have expected otherwise, should he? He gave careful thought to his answer. "I don't think there is any one solution. Frequently, a quiet word is enough deterrence, but for the most stubborn cases, a court martial is the last resort. And there is a difference between those who admire and emulate without thought to their own advantage, and those more mercenary. The taichous all deal with this in their own way. Ukitake has his illness and those two dragons of his to guard him, Kyouraku pretends constant drunkenness and showers all his public affection on Ise Nanao, Soi Fon has her private bodyguard, Hitsugaya and Matsumoto are nearly inseparable, and who would dare compete with her? And who in their right minds would cluster around Zaraki? I hear that Hisagi has his third and fourth seats open all private letters from senders not on his personal list. I reprimand and punish for insubordination." He rested a hand on Renji's shoulder. "And I have never seen you overstep the boundaries, Renji. When you command, the Division respectfully scrambles to obey."

Renji flushed. Praise from Byakuya was rare, but what better affirmation than from the man who had directly overseen his apprenticeship over the past years? He was a newly installed taichou, but Byakuya had decades of experience he could draw on, and to Renji, he was always generous, frank and insightful.

"As for identifying shinigami with potential, you train those shinigami much harder than the rest. Not many shinigami would put themselves through that just to win your favor." Byakuya's lips turned slightly down. "But you've never left them nearly dead as I did my previous fukutaichou."

Renji understood that it was yet another of Byakuya's subtle apologies. Really, the man never seemed to lack new ways to express his regret over that incident. His heartbeat deepening, he took a stilling breath. Perhaps he could put an end to this once and for all. "Didn't stop me from loving you, did it?" He could feel his smile turn lopsided.

Byakuya forgot to breathe. Renji's words echoed though him, not fading like true echoes, but gaining resonance and volume, vibrating through mind, heart and soul. Of its own volition, his hand moved from Renji's shoulder to cup his jaw, trembling slightly, as his throat fought for words. "Then you must take care never to leave your subordinates nearly dead, because I will never countenance anyone loving you but me."

Renji's smile widened till it threatened to split his face. Delighted grin met gentle smile as feelings swirled around the bedchamber. This time, the kisses were deeper, lips and tongues almost desperate as each sought again and again to show the other the depths of his devotion. Passion and worship entwined their limbs as their bodies honored the covenant their words had promised. Finally they parted, flushed and breathing hard, eyes drawn into mutual captivity. Then sly humor slid into the crimson pair. "Tell me exactly why I am a most 'striking-looking man'."

"If you will explain what you see when you look at me," came the quick retort. Again, sake-flavored kisses were exchanged, turning to liquid fire as emotion and sensation drew each other into tighter embrace. Suddenly, almost at the point of surrender, a thought occurred to Byakuya, and reluctantly, he broke off the kiss. He closed his eyes for a moment to find a point of balance, though he could not bear to release Renji from his embrace.

"Renji," he hesitated, but the question had to be asked, "how much do you know of tonight?"

More red stained Renji's cheeks and he rested his forehead against Byakuya's. "I don't know," he replied, emphasizing the last word, "but I have an idea." He raised his head, adding, "I asked Matsumoto."

He took in Byakuya's widened eyes and shrugged defensively. "I didn't want to come to you completely ignorant, and Matsumoto gives good advice. And I didn't ask her when she was alone," he said hurriedly, "Hitsugaya hung around, so it wasn't inappropriate."

"Inappropriate," repeated Byakuya faintly. He wondered if Renji knew the meaning of that word. It was fortunate that Hitsugaya had only three expressions—serious, angry and bored, because he did not know if he could look his fellow taichou in the eye ever again.

"I didn't mention names," Renji offered helpfully. "I asked hypothetically." He was beginning to enjoy the conversation. A ruffled Byakuya was such fun, and somehow all trepidation had faded away with the recitation of his inexperience. There was a sudden freedom to what he could say and do, even if he could not help his blushes.

Byakuya spotted the glint in Renji's eyes and gritted his teeth down.

"It wasn't that easy for me," Renji pointed out. "After all, I had to admit my ignorance to both Matsumoto and Hitsugaya."

A palpable hit. Byakuya acknowledged the justice of Renji's response. Renji, too, would have to face Hitsugaya at their next meeting, if it had not already occurred. Putting this topic aside, he turned his attention to more urgent matters. This night was more important than the thought of running into Hitsugaya.

Leaning forward, he nipped Renji's earlobe lightly, then traced the curvature of his ear, his tongue dipping in a slow circular motion until Renji quivered . "And what did you learn?"

"Well, Matsumoto pulled out some illustrated stories she called doujinshi. Actually, I don't think they were really stories, just very explicit encounters." A blush. "They were all about us, except for one about you and Ichigo." Renji frowned. "Then that idiot had to come by complaining about something, and of course I had to beat him up. You remember, that was the last time I ended up in the Fourth overnight, because Zaraki found us and had to jump in."

Byakuya's frown followed Renji's. He was beginning to detect a very fine Machiavellian hand behind all of this. That was the afternoon Rukia had slipped a doujinshi about Renji and Kurosaki into the papers on his desk. An accident, she had claimed. When Kurosaki had shown up at his residence, he had been ejected with quick dispatch and freezing courtesy.

Gratitude and outrage wrestled in his mind. As Kuchiki Byakuya, taichou and noble, he was unaccustomed to being the object of manipulation. Yet, that pair of devious and mischievous minds had led him to this man and to this place. For this, he would allow the gratitude but he tucked away the promise of retribution in a corner of his mind as he once again directed his attention where it most deserved to be.

Renji was looking at him inquiringly. "Tell me more of these doujinshi," he said, fingers moving in Renji's hair. The braid had been the first thing to go. He adored the sense of spun fire it always gave him, and fervently wish it were long enough so he could awaken to its fine silken length coiled around him. But perhaps to feel the spill of it across his chest and abdomen this night and the next morning would be sufficient privilege.

"Matsumoto mentioned something called baseball, and used it to explain the doujinshi. We've been at first base for the past months. Apparently, we haven't quite got to second base yet." Renji's hands were lightly tracing the lines of Byakuya's cheekbones and jaw, eyes absorbed. Byakuya recalled his earlier exploration and shivered. Renji's fingers were following the same path and he could felt the calluses of the expert swordsman as Renji painted abstract patterns with gentle abrasion. His lids lowered of their own accord and he heard Renji's breathing hitch. The fingers were replaced by softer lips that left tender yearning in their feathery wake. Catching the moment in a crystalline memory, Byakuya remained still under Renji's ministrations till his lips were finally content.

Very slowly, Byakuya reopened his eyes and cupped Renji's face. "Thank you." Lightly, his thumb skimmed over Renji's throat. "May I demonstrate second base?" Throat working, Renji nodded. He wondered what Byakuya would do. The doujinshi he had seen had been rather summary in the execution of this stage. Then again, the doujinshi had not been very informative about first base either.

He felt Byakuya's hands trail down the sides of his neck, circling the tattoos as they passed. Renji had never imagined until Byakuya that his neck could harbor such nodes of tactile reaction, and he could feel the slow trembling of earlier commence anew. He watched assiduously as Byakukya ran his hands under the sleeping robe, parting it until he reached the shoulders. Byakuya had the most beautiful hands, and seeing their pale, elegant strength—the strength that commanded Senbonzakura— against the deeper hues of his own coloring stole his breath again, as had seeing Byakuya's lids come down over glowing grey at the touch of his fingers. But shortness of breath, thought Renji ruefully, appeared to be an increasingly common condition around Byakuya. In time, he might have to forego all thought of ever recovering his breath.

He felt the upper half of his robe fall down his arms. Byakukuya had seen Renji without his shikahausho before this, but something in Byakuya's eyes this time made the trembling increase. As it communicated itself to Byakuay's hands, Renji watched the smile form on Byakuya's lips. With sure deliberation, he pressed two fingers against the base of Renji's throat. Helplessly, Renji jerked, as he remembered where else those paired fingers could be applied. He could feel their firm but tantalizingly slow passage downwards, over sternum and abdomen, making their way to and past the cloth knot low on his waist. By the time they reached their final destination, where they were joined by the rest of Byakuya's hand, Renji was shaking badly, his lower limbs tight with unspent pleasure. "Byakuya…"

"What next?" Byakuya asked, sparks of gold in his grey eyes. Mesmerized, Renji's lips parted. With agonizing slowness, hands clumsy, he wrestled with the simple cloth knot as he watched Byakuya watch him. At last, a tug and it gave way. His robe slowly pooled around him, held in place only by Byakuya's hand as the other man gazed on Renji, rapt.

"You know." Renji whispered.

"Yes," Byakuya agreed. His free hand pulled at the ties of his own robe as he shrugged off the material. It was Renji's turn to stare, intrigued by the stretch of muscle across Byakuya's chest and the contrast of moonlit skin against that backdrop of midnight hair. Byakuya's immense dignity and gravitas, the spaciousness of shinigami robes, too often obscured the reality of Byakuya's toned slenderness. Yet, the sight of him nude did not detract from his customary presence, but merely emphasized his extravagant good looks. Not that Renji could properly judge any longer. The thought of that hair, that skin and that lithe body resting against his own made him almost miss Byakuya's next words. "But do you?"

A gleam of humor escaped through the desire. "I know that it is only fair if the one who is penetrated gets to come twice." Nevertheless, Renji could not hide the tremor in his voice. His shivering and longing had not decreased and he was ever aware of Byakuya's hand, warm through the material of his robe.

Byakua's lips curved upwards. "And how does this happen?" This playful, cocksure Renji, this man who met every challenge— this man made him want to tease back. He wanted to provoke Renji, no, to be provocative to him. Metaphorically, he desired to glance back over his shoulder at Renji and deliver a come-hither look to him, in full knowledge that he would accept the dare.

"Third base." Renji placed a hand on Byakuya's chest, and kept his eyes firmly downwards, lips quirking upwards despite his unsteadiness. "One of us usually gets fellated in the doujinshi." His other hand fell on Byakuya's and pressed it more securely against himself. "But using hands and rubbing the prostate seem acceptable too." The hand on Byakuya's chest stroked down along Byakuya's arm and grasped his free hand. Byakuya felt the room turn around him as his blood pounded. Renji learnt too quickly.

Byakuya's voice was pitched very low and very husky. "And what is your preference?" He freed his hand, brought it to Renji's chin and tipped it up with two fingers, noting the jerkiness of his own movements.

Renji would have looked guileless but for the hectic flush in his cheeks and the glaze in his eyes. "I wouldn't know. Figured we'd try all three and see what works."

"Greedy lout," admonished Byakuya, biting a firm bicep, then sucking tightly. Renji's head went back. Byakuya's lips moved to his collarbone and investigated it thoroughly with tongue and teeth. Those strong lines and skin-softened bones had always fascinated him, peering out through shikahausho and kimono. Then, his lips revisited Renji's ear. "I have a counter-proposal. In the interests of true parity, we will take turns."

"Che, who's greedy to come now?" Renji gripped Byakuya's hips as Byakuya's fingers tickled spots of unusual sensation on his neck. Their mouths met again while Renji moved his hands further outward and squeezed experimentally. He could feel the muscles leap under his hands. The dampened skin against his own was furnace-hot. He suddenly needed to rub against Byakuya and he followed the prompting of untaught instinct, hearing the other man gasp.

"We're not quite there yet, Renji." Teeth worried his lips. "What do the doujinshi tell you next?" Byakuya was panting lightly and both their heart were racing. For a moment, both stilled by unspoken mutual agreement, resting against each other, sensation flowing back and forth between them.

"That we can look interesting in any number of positions. In multiple directions. And have some peculiar expressions. And make strange noises." Renji's words were coming in short bursts. He took a deep breath. "Oh, yes, plenty of lubrication. It's supposed to hurt, but I'm sure it can't be worse than a battle injury."

"Do not ruin the mood, Renji."

"Does this restore it, Byakuya?" Renji's firm hands resumed their wandering, following no particular path, though they returned again and again to the curve of Byakuya's lower back. With this cue, Byakuya saw every reason to continue his own delectation of Renji. He licked a shoulder and teasingly nibbled at its ridges.

"Any other conclusions?" Rational speech was difficult. Renji was getting venturesome, and his responses were so delicious.

"Apparently, it all comes down to one mantra. Insert tab A into slot B."

Startled, Byakuya's hands and lips abruptly ceased their activity as he stared at Renji, who was looking extremely pleased with himself. A tickle started in Byakuya's chest, bumbled around for a few moments, then traveled up his throat and bubbled out as a quick laugh, astounding him. He could not recall the last time he had laughed. Yet, laughter did not diminish the desire, but only fanned it higher as he thought of tab and slot, and Renji's particular ability to somehow complete him.

Renji gazed in fascination at his lover. Byakuya's eyes were sparkling, narrowed with humor, lips turned upwards and parted, cheeks curved in tinted alabaster. Somehow, that image pulled at him unspeakably, tightening yet another notch the coil of tension within him. He wondered whether he could repeat the experiment.

Suddenly, he found himself flat on the floor, blanketed by burning skin, muscle and bone, a deep voice purring into his ear. "Let us now prove that mantra, shall we? And then we will see how we can increase our pleasures by inserting tab B into slot A."

Somehow, hearing those words in that voice amplified his shaking, and Renji understood the urge that had thrown Byakuya on top of him. Gripping Byakuya tightly, he arched upwards, dissatisfied with their present proximity. "More," he whispered.

Byakuya drank in the sight of Renji, eyes narrowed and glinting golden red, high flush across cheekbones, lips parted and panting, expression ardent, hair spread out across the tatami like puddled silk.

"Roll," he rasped. "Futon." Renji understood. They tumbled across the floor and both men moaned at the unlooked for friction, not stopping even after they had attained one end of the futon. They came to a rest only when they reached the other end, their way impeded by the tray of silks and the closed box. Byakuya's head dipped down. The taste of Renji was more potent than ever on his tongue.

"I don't want this night to end." Renji's eyes were tightly shut. Byakuya's arms flexed involuntarily.

"It won't. We will prove it beyond a lifetime."

TBC


	7. Interlude Post Consummation

Title: Consummation Interlude

Characters: Renji, Byakuya (ByaRenBya)

Rating: M

Summary: Omake series to 5th part of Renji – Reflection, "Consummation".

Warning: Frank language. Fluff. Oxymoron?

Disclaimer: Own no part of Bleach, not even bleach

x

**Omake 1 K.I.S.S**

"Insert tab A into slot B?" Histugaya's voice was quizzical. "That's not what you told me, Rangiku."

Matsumoto tossed her head. "They're men, I had to keep it simple."

White eyebrows lifted over teal eyes. "I'm a man too, the last time I checked."

"Ah, Toushiro, but you had me to guide you, every inch of the way. Besides, I'm sure there are things Kuchiki Taichou will enjoy teaching Abarai-kun."

"Speaking of lessons," the deep voice was gravely amused, "did we ever complete the advanced course?"

"All but the final assessment." Matsumoto cocked her head. "Apparently, the testing requires an entire day."

"A challenge indeed." The pale lips smirked. "I daresay it will require much knowledge, skill and stamina."

"Oh, I'm sure it will be a breeze for a genius like you, Toushiro."

x

**Omake 2 Archive 5**

Renji bent forward to read the various titles on the shelves, running his fingers lightly across the spines. Abruptly, he straightened, and looked over his shoulder. "Stop staring," he said, "you're distracting me."

"I beg your pardon?"

Renji harrumphed and returned to his task. He had asked Byakuya if he could check the Kuchiki archives for records of past taichous of the Fifth Division. Without turning back, he said, "You're doing it again."

Silence returned to the room as Renji continued to examine the lower shelves.

"Renji."

"Hmm?"

"You never return to Soul Society with the clothing your gigai uses."

"Rukia picked them," was the short reply.

"Ah."

Renji finished surveying one row, then straightened and stretched, rolling his shoulders and back muscles, before bending again to his task.

He felt a rush of reiatsu approach and his hips were gripped firmly as Byakuya leaned over and into him, intent obvious.

"Really," he growled. "I would never have slept with you if I'd known you were going to jump me all the time."

"A misconception on your part. I make no demands at work." The slender hands were busy at the front of his hakama.

"That's because," Renji huffed, "there's a compound and fence between us." He glared sideways. "And that's not meant as a challenge." He gasped as sharp teeth nipped at his right buttock. He could feel the sting even through the cloth.

"You need new hakama," Byakuya muttered thickly. "Yours are worn thin as paper."

"What's wrong with that?" demanded Renji. His eyes were starting to cross. Those hands! "The cloak will cover them."

"Not when you are training." Byakuya's reply came in snatches. He was delicately exploring a dimple. "I would not have others view what is mine."

"That's my ass you're talking about," said Renji tartly.

"I offer you the same courtesy."

"If it's on those terms… ummph… should we take this elsewhere?"

"Bend over and grip the bottom shelf." The deep voice was gravelly.

"Pervert."

"The view pleases me."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"The next time Inoue or Ishida visit, I will to speak to them about jeans."

"Are you sure? They're tight, hot and uncomfortable." Renji sounded dubious.

"I wish to test a theory." Byakuya's voice was smooth and uninformative. Renji shrugged. He would know in due course.

"I'm dressed. Are you ready to leave? Oh, good day, Satoshi-san. I'll go ahead if you want to speak to Byakuya."

"It's all right, Renji. I just wanted to give this to Byakuyashi." He handed over a small packet. "It's the security tape for Archive 5. Full visuals and sound."

"Thank you, Satoshi oji-san. I appreciate your thoughtfulness."

"Byakuya, you knew?"

Byakuya's lips curved upwards into a tiny smile. The make-up sex would be exemplary.

**Omake 3 Kisses**

"Renji."

"No, Byakuya. The answer is no."

"I thought so."

"What?" Renji finally turned to Byakuya. He had been composing the menu for the upcoming celebration of his promotion.

"That evening at Urahara's onsen was your first kiss."

"What do you mean? Of course I've been kissed before!"

A eyebrow lifted in challenge.

"Rukia."

"Your sister."

"Yuzu."

"Your best friend's sister."

"Matsumoto."

"An accident of mistaken identity."

"Stop looking so smug! I still haven't forgiven you for Archive 5."

"Interesting choice of words. You say you've 'been kissed before'. May I presume that I am also the recipient of your first kiss?"

"Byakuya, if you don't shut up about this, I'll…"

"I would certainly welcome any approaches of an amatory nature. … …

Are you departing so soon?"

"I'm going to train."

"I will accompany you. Senbonzakura will look forward to the exercise."

"You're not coming. You're only trying to get into my hakama again."

"That is most vulgar, Renji."

"Then what do you call Archive 5?"

"The felicitous conjunction of unbearable temptation and irresistible opportunity."

"And the security tape?"

"Fortuitous serendipity."

"You know, Byakuya, if you wanted to make a dirty tape of us, you should have just told me."

"You are not averse to the possibility?"

"Wouldn't have mentioned it otherwise, would I?"

"Let us proceed then. My study will serve admirably."

x

**Omake 4 Perfectionist**

"And buttons or zip?" Ishida asked, writing into his order book.

"Buttons. Those metallic studs are quite attractive." _And convenient_.

"Thank you, Kuchiki Taichou." Ishida shut his book, stood up, and bowed. "I will have Kurosaki or Rukia deliver them when they are ready."

A few weeks later, Renji stared at the pile of clothing in his arms.

"Try them on."

"Here?" Renji looked around the study.

"Is there a problem?"

"Just like this?"

A raised eyebrow.

"Okay, okay."

…

"Are you just going to sit there watching?"

Again, a raised eyebrow.

"Byakuya, there's no underwear in this pile, and I can't wear these with fundoshi."

"Unnecessary."

"There aren't any shirts either."

"Take down your hair."

"Haha, very funny."

"Leave the top button undone and turn around."

"Byakuya…"

"Now try on the next pair of jeans."

x

**Omake 5 Little Lord Fauntleroy**

Renji cursed as he brushed out his hair. Tendrils of hair curled around his arms, defeating his attempts to untangle them.

"Let me." Byakuya said, taking the brush from him. Somehow, Renji's hair seemed even more unruly tonight, clinging with fine static.

Renji sighed in relief. Byakuya's strokes were firm and brisk, and he could feel the gradual taming of his locks. "Ah. Thank you, Byakuya. I wish my hair was like yours."

A sudden thought struck Byakuya. "Renji, your hair, was it because…?"

Renji's eyes met Byakuya's in the mirror. "Your hair?" He laughed. "No, I'm foolish but not that foolish. I've always kept it long."

"Why? It troubles you so."

Renji flushed, dipping his head. "BecauseIhavecurls." He saw Byakuya's puzzlement. "Curls," he said more loudly. "It curls when short."

That night, Byakuya watched the slumbering Renji, still enchanted by the image of Renji with curls and unable to suppress his curiosity. For some reason, he felt like a boy of fifteen again.

'Senbonzakura,' he whispered.

'No, Taichou,' responded Senbonzakura firmly. 'That is an illegal order, and you know it.'

'He is asleep.'

'And he trusts us and will not awake even if he feels our reiatsu. Do not do it, Taichou.'

'A valid point. Scissors will have to do, I see, though they are not as precise.'

Senbonzakura considered. 'They would serve as more appropriate tools,' she acknowledged. 'Though Renji is hardly a new recruit to be hazed.'

'He is a new taichou,' Byakuya pointed out. Senbonzakura bowed and retreated.

When Renji awoke the next morning, something seemed different. He lifted his head and realized that the customary weight was gone. Lifting his hand to his hair, he felt a cluster of curls twine lovingly around his fingers. What?

Shooting upright, the first thing he saw was Byakuya kneeling quietly by the futon, though the expression in his face was unlike anything he had seen before. Half defiance and half unholy glee, the look of a schoolboy who knows that he has done wrong but will take the punishment for the crime because it has been so pleasurable. At his knees lay a thick twist of saffron-coloured hair and a pair of scissors.

Renji sighed in resignation. That face, he could not resist. "I should be furious, you know," he said finally.

"Certainly."

"My hair takes forever to grow."

"I understand."

"And I'm not wearing a wig."

"No, most insalubrious."

"So you'll have to figure out something."

"You have my word."

"So, why did you do it?"

"I desired to see you with curls."

"I expect lots and lots of make-up sex."

"It will be my pleasure."

"With role-playing."

"Yes, Abarai-sama."

x

**Omake 6 Tactics**

Renji abruptly sat upright in bed. "Lovers!" he exclaimed.

"That much is indicated," the pile of bedclothes besides him spoke in a sleepy voice. "Go back to sleep, Renji. You will need all your faculties when you face the Tenth Division tomorrow. As it is, you and Hinamori will certainly be defeated at Hitsugaya's and Matsumoto's hands."

"That's what I mean!" replied Renji. "Hitsugaya and Matsumoto are sleeping together."

"I am aware of that fact."

"You knew? How did you know?"

"Senbonzakura informed me."

"Senbonzakura tells you things like that? Why doesn't Zabimaru tell me anything?"

"That," returned a very dry voice, "is a question you should address to Zabimaru."

"What exactly did Senbonzakura say?"

"She reported that Hyourinmaru and Haineko have been companions for centuries. I inferred the rest."

"Wait, but Hitsugaya and Matsumoto have only… oh… I see."

Renji descended into thoughtful silence.

"More sex!"

The bundle of bedclothes rustled again. "Renji, you are expected at the division at 6 in the morning. Go to sleep."

"No, I mean, I'm sure that's one of the reasons they work so well together on the battlefield. They must have years of lovemaking on us. Byakuya, we've got plenty of time to make up for. Byakuya? Byakuya?"

Disgruntled, Renji lay back down and shut his eyes. Suddenly, he felt a warm hand brush him and Byakuya's voice sound huskily in his ear. "A most intriguing proposal, Abarai Taichou. I recommend we explore every possible detail."

Later that morning, Hinamori Momo glared at Renji, arms akimbo. "Abarai-kun, you stayed up all night with Kuchiki Taichou, didn't you? I can't believe you would do this today of all days!"

Renji grinned apologetically at Hinamori. "Sorry, Hinamori, we were discussing battle tactics and forgot the time."

"Battle tactics," snarled Hinamori. "That's certainly a new one."


	8. Interlude II Post Consummation

Renji lounged lazily on the futon, covers drawn up to his hips, watching Byakuya as he prepared tea at the little table by the

Title: Consummation Interlude II

Characters: Renji, Byakuya (ByaRenBya)

Rating: R

Summary: 2nd Omake series to 5th part of Renji – Reflection, "Consummation". Continuation of Consummation Interlude. Well, it makes more sense if you've read that.

Warning: Frank language. Fluff.

Disclaimer: Own no part of Bleach, not even bleach

xxxxxxx

**Omake 1 Archive 5 Take Two**

"Memorable Levels"

"Do cease your squirming, Renji, it is most unbecoming.

Really, you're more restive than a three year old."

"A three year old wouldn't be doing that on screen. I can't believe I agreed to this!"

"We are not children to avoid intimacy."

"Children my foot! You can't get any more adult than this! What are those sounds I'm making?"

"They signify your pleasure."

"Then why don't I hear you making them, huh?!"

"Really, all this agitation is unnecessary."

"And what's that look on my face? Don't tell me, it signifies my pleasure?"

"All evidence points in that direction."

"I never thought I would look so foolish!"

"Be assured that I do not think so."

"I'm blushing there, aren't? I'm blushing so much I'm not myself!"

"That is not a blush. Surely you have had some basic education in this matter?"

"Still looks like a blush to me, and why are my eyes looking so strange and girl-ugh!"

"I can attest to the fact that you are not female."

"Um, yeah, well, I guess, seeing where your mouth and hands are."

"There is no need to be crude."

"So, I'm making more and more of those noises, and I haven't heard a peep from you!"

"I am hardly in a position to vocalize."

"So? I can speak with my mouth full!"

"Not under these circumstances."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Most certainly not. My relative silence merely reflects a difference in level of excitation. Perhaps we should have watched the other disc first."

"Oh, you mean the one where I…"

"Yes. Shall I change the discs?"

"No, let's finish this first. I might as well see the worst and get it over with.

I look as if I'm in pain."

"The sounds you make belie that."

"Did I really shout your name that loudly?"

"We can replay that segment to ascertain that fact."

"Pervert."

"Shall we proceed to the next disc? It will prove that I am equally enthused under your ministrations."

"Well, at least the camera didn't capture everything. I don't think I could stand seeing certain things."

"I believe some things are better left to reality and memory, do you not agree?"

xxxxxx

**Omake 2 Little Lord Fauntleroy Part II**

"Where Abarai Taichou displays his graciousness."

Renji lounged lazily on the futon, covers drawn up to his hips, watching Byakuya as he prepared tea at the little table by the side of the futon. It was their day off, and they did not plan to stir a step beyond Byakuya's residence. Not much beyond this room, either, thought Renji, his lips quirking. He raised a hand to his hair—there was a new lightness to his head, and something undeniably hypnotic in the way the thickly clustered curls tickled his hand. Briefly, he wondered if apology was not the only reason Byakuya had so fussed with his hair this morning. But he was too replete with pleasure to remain in the least bit upset with his lover. Byakuya had been spectacularly repentant throughout the entire morning.

Byakuya had glanced up at his gesture. Renji shot him a quick grin, and drawled easily, "So, have you come up with an explanation I can give?"

The fine brows drew together. "You're a taichou and need not account to anyone."

"Says someone who's never been to Friday night happy hour. That bunch of jokers includes a few taichous, several fukutaichous, and Matsumoto, who's in a class of her own, and they'll never leave me alone."

"Perhaps this calls for abstention on your part."

"And have them say I'm whipped?" Renji considered. "Well, I am." He gave Byakuya their private smile. "But they don't need to know that."

He continued mulling over the question. "Saying I felt like a change might satisfy them but I'll lay odds that it won't. They know we're both off-duty today and someone's sure to say something about you, and I'll get into a brawl with them, and you'll have to recover me from the Fourth and get all pissy." He grinned at the haughty look he received. "You know you will. Because I'll be too beat up to make it up to you."

"Not to mention Ichigo's coming over this week, and he's going to have some smartass comment. And then, there's Rukia."

"Ah, Rukia," Byakuya murmured. Rukia had an unfortunate habit of sororal solicitude. There was a thoughtful silence. "Surely there is no need for so much dissimulation?"

Renji looked incredulously back at him, "And let everyone know that I let you cut off my hair while I was sleeping too soundly to know? As a prank?"

Byakuya inclined his head in acknowledgment of Renji's argument. It was a point of pride.

"Besides," Renji continued, "no one's going to believe that you played a trick on me, and they're going to keep bugging me for the real reason, whatever I tell them."

A faint smile played about Byakuya's lips. His eyes swept from the richly tangled hair down Renji's bared torso to rest at his covered hip.

"You could tell them," he suggested, voice deceptively smooth, "that I wished to discover if the curtain truly matched the rug in all respects."

For a moment, Renji thought that he had misheard, then he saw the same glee peer out of Byakuya's eyes that he had seen earlier that morning, and he choked.

Byakuya calmed picked up his tea and began sipping slowly, while Renji fought to catch his breath. Finally, he said over his wheezing, "I'll just tell them to ask you then." His face was scarlet, Byakuya noted with satisfaction. In all likelihood, any question addressed to Renji on the subject of his shorn locks would now elicit that half bashful blush. Surely his companions would consequently infer that Byakuya was its cause. For Renji's sake, he hoped that they would pursue the topic no further unless they wished to incur both their wraths, though he did not hold out much hope for such wisdom from them. More significantly, from his point of view, that blush would underscore his claim on Renji.

"It is certainly none of their concern." Byakuya's voice was deadpan.

Renj's eyes narrowed. "You're up to something."

"Your imputations are unfounded."

"You're looking too pleased with yourself." Renji rolled onto his back. "I don't want to know, I don't think I can take another shock today." He focused penetratingly on Byakuya. "I'll leave it for another day."

A raised eyebrow was his only reply.

"Ha." Renji ran his hand through his hair again. "So, what are you going to do about the curls? I refuse to attach the braid to cover them and fake it, by the way. It'll only take a good tug from Yachiru."

"A hat?"

"Urahara."

"A most sinister appearance. A scarf, perhaps?"

"Another word—Yachiru."

"Kusajishi fukutaichou is indeed extremely irrepressible. One would wish... however. Gel?"

"Zaraki and Hitsugaya."

"A wise decision, not to emulate their appearance at the start of your captaincy. There is a Japanese process called straightening that is extremely effective."

"In Soul Society?"

"I believe it is available only in the living world, and requires many hours."

"Great. I can just see the soutaichou approving a request for a salon appointment from one of his male taichous. Can someone bring the equipment?"

"It is said to require a professional touch. A poorly mastered technique delivers worse results."

Renji sagged onto the futon.

"Au naturel?"

"You're kidding. I wouldn't be asking otherwise, would I?

"Pity. It is rather attractive. You have the appearance of an angelic schoolboy chorister but for the ta..."

"Byakuya…" Renji warned. He groaned and covered his face with a forearm. He remained quiet for a space, then, his muffled voice spoke, heavy with resignation. "I'm going to have to suck it up, aren't I?" He lifted his arm and glared at Byakuya. "So, what is your preference?"

"You will give me the decision in this matter?" There was a hint of surprise in the calm voice.

"You're the one who has to look at it, aren't you? I can deal." Renji turned on his side to face Byakuya. He grinned challengingly into the impassive mien.

Byakuya's grey gaze met the crimson. "I will have you as you are, Renji."

The wolf's grin grew lop-sided. "You have all of me, Byakuya."

Renji flung himself on his back again. "Gods, I'm so whipped, aren't I?" He angled his head towards Byakuya, smiling ruefully. A slight curving of his lover's lips was the only response though the grey eyes had turned dove soft.

Then, they acquired a gleam Renji was coming to know very, very well. Abruptly, his mood shifted. That sportive expression spelled very interesting times ahead.

Byakuya busied himself with the teapot while his voice sounded, an almost caressing note to it,

"And how do you prefer to be whipped, Renji?"

Almost languidly, drawing out the moment, Renji turned luxuriously on his front, resting on his forearms. He threw a smirk over his shoulders at Byakuya. "That depends, Kuchiki-sensei."

An eyebrow arched up. "Oh?"

"On how bad _you_ are." The crimson eyes were laughing.

Byakuya sipped his tea nonchalantly. "And if," his lids lowered secretively, "I am irredeemably degenerate?"

"In that case," replied Renji slowly, looking at Byakuya through his eyelashes, "I must be a very, very good boy then, mustn't I, Sensei?"

xxxxxx

**Omake 3 Battle Tactics II**

"In which Byakuya demonstrates that he possesses a cunning tongue, in every sense."

Byakuya sat on the cramped bench, wondering for the umpteenth time why he had given in to Renji's pleading and begun accompanying him to these Friday night drinking sessions. The first trip had been to forestall questions on Renji's newly acquired head of curls. One look from him, and Ikkaku's mocking, "Got yourself some curlers, Renji?" had been strangled in its infancy.

Several weeks later, it had become a habit for Renji to call for him at the Sixth Division office on his way to the regular Friday night drinking hole, a place selected for both the quality and price of its sake and beer, Renji had assured him, after decades of rigorous tasting by the finest palates in Seireitei. It had received the highest accolades from Kyouraku himself, heartily seconded by Matsumoto. No one, Byakuya had thought rather waspishly, could contest the claim of this couple as the supreme arbiters in all matters alcoholic in Soul Society. But he had been pleasantly surprised by the sake served in that most unprepossessing location. Even the beer had won his grudging approval.

So here he was, Kuchiki Byakuya, camped out with the flower of the Gotei Thirteen on these extremely hard benches, waiting for the appropriate moment to whisk his doubtless to be inebriated lover home to seduce. That man, he thought in fond exasperation, could always win his acquiescence to the most unlikely scheme, in this case, to relinquish his claim on an intimate Friday evening for the dubious pleasure of his colleagues' company. Though he was coming to comprehend the charms of collegiality. Undoubtedly the effects of alcohol.

To his right, Zaraki was engaging Hitsugaya in one of his usual discourses on fighting. The Tenth Division taichou apparently came to these sessions so he could "haul Matsumoto's drunken carcass back before tomorrow's paperwork arrives", or so he claimed, though Byakuya suspected their private reasons were very similar.

"True fighting is one man and his sword against all comers."

A sudden imp whispered in Byakuya's ear. He glanced at Renji, who was nursing his sake and dividing his attention between Zaraki, and Hinamori and Yachiru, who were playing a game. A second imp loosened Byakuya's tongue.

"I beg to differ, Zaraki. You think solely of facing the enemy, but for a man who loves the battle as much as you do, I am surprised that you have not considered the pleasures of being one half of a well-seasoned fighting pair."

Zaraki snorted. "As namby-pamby as ever, Bya-hime. The Eleventh fights alone."

"Your idea of swordsmanship is unbelievably crude, Zaraki. All your expertise goes merely to expend your energy pointing your sword aimlessly. True finesse in battle tactics can only come about when you have a well-established pair of fighters."

Beside Byakuya, Renji suddenly stiffened, then turned and looked incredulously at Byakuya, after which he dropped his head to the table and let it remain there. Byakuya ignored him.

"I'm just hearing a bunch of fancy words strung together, Hime. So tell me about your so-called pair tactics."

"The tactics of a pair of fighters rests on one fundamental assumption—a delight in movement. It is movement that carries us from the beginning of the battle, to its climax, to its conclusion. In engaging in the movements of battle, an experienced pair thinks as one, reacts as one and moves as one. They read each other's most subtle cues, and partake in a dance of attack and retreat."

"Dancing, heh? There's no place for dancing on a battlefield. It's either kill or be killed."

"I am quite aware, Zaraki, that death is the finale which accompanies a battle. But one may dance towards death as well as take it in hand and wrestle with it. And if one has company, surely the dance is preferable. It is an activity requiring precise moves, and constant awareness not only of one's position but also one's partner's. We may attack or retreat together, or in turn. One may attack and the other retreat, luring the enemy. Or one may have the back of the other. There are infinite combinations of move and countermove. It demands the lust of battle to discover new and effective combinations." A low groan drifted from Renji's direction.

"I've seen you fight, Hime, but you still talk through your ass. I'm not surprised, with that pansy sword of yours. Che, what do you know of battle lust? When there's enough of the enemy, you're bound to kill something. We were all ragged during that last battle."

"I can assure you, Zaraki, that I never lose sight of my partner. That keeps my sword precise. After all, too rapid a move, a stroke an inch off, a lunge too deep, and I could cause an injury. It is a matter of trust and trust is certainly better than mistrust in battle."

"Ha, I trust only myself and my sword in a fight. Not your touchy-feely, "Oh we need each other," way of fighting."

"In all honesty, Zaraki, neither do I relish the idea of …" Before Byakuya could finish, Renji suddenly jumped up, flinging his hand out and knocking Byakuya's mug of beer into his lap. As Byakuya glared at him, Renji broke into a string of curses, which drew Zaraki's attention.

"Heh, Renji, what's got your panties in twist?"

"Left something on the stove!"

Zaraki snorted in disgust. "Idiot!" Yachiru looked up from her game, interested. "What're you making, Curly?"

"Caramel." It was a Yachiru favourite. "It might all have burnt through by this time." Yachiru's face fell. Then brightened again. "If you start how, you can make another batch!" She looked excitedly at Byakuya. "Byakuyashi, if you took Curly home now, I'll visit for a caramel picnic tomorrow!"

"Yes, Byakuyashi," gritted Renji into Byakuya's ear, "it's time to leave." Taking Byakuya by the elbow, he dragged him out of the tavern. As he left, Byakuya noticed that Hitsugaya's eyes were flickering between him, Renji and Zaraki, a perturbed expression on his face.

As they moved quickly through the night, Byakuya glanced out of the corner of his eye at Renji.

"How did you know?"

"I recognized the look in your eyes," replied Renji shortly.

"Enlighten me."

"I woke up to that look one morning and found my hair gone."

"Ah."

"Really, I can't take you out anywhere. And I never thought I'd be saying this to you, of all people." Renji huffed, aggravated. "Why Zaraki to tease?"

"Not Zaraki."

"Next time, if you want to leave, just let me know."

Subtly, Byakuya's hand brushed across the front of Renji's hakama.

"That was not my intention."

Renji's hand grabbed Byakuya's tightly. "Idiot," he muttered, staring straight ahead, "you know you can do that with just a look."

They continued walking in silence, Byakuya's eyes on Renji's face. Then the corner of Renji's mouth tugged upwards reluctantly. "It was pretty funny. I think Hitsugaya was onto you, though."

"Who better to understand the enthralling beauty of battle tactics?"


	9. A short omake for the Interludes

Title: An unexpected visitor

Summary: A demonstration of the consequences of writing the kind of omake I do. Tangential ByaRen.

Word count: 377

Disclaimer: Don't own Bleach, not even bleach.

A/N For those of you who have been so kindly reading my omake Renji – Reflection Interludes, and for those of you who have been disturbed by some of my bunnies. You may decide if this serves me right!

I will get back to the main story soon!!

xxxxxxx

x

xxxxxxx

"hu3long2, I am very disappointed with you. No, shaking with rage would better describe my current state."

An eldritch voice speaks with mind-chilling suddenness into my ear. I start, nearly spilling the glass of wine over my keyboard. I look up wildly, my heart pumping in preparation to flee. To my left, I see a flowing shape, swaying gently to an unknown breeze.

"Who are you?" I gasp, too unnerved to hide the tremor in my voice.

It ignores my question. "It shames me irrevocably to associate with a vicious apostate like you."

The scene, already surreal, begins to acquire a twisted, hysterical quality. "I beg your pardon?" I ask in disbelief.

"Do not pretend measly ignorance, you sadistic heretic!"

Incredulity has overtaken fear as my principle emotion. "Are you sure you've the right person?" I ask. "I can't imagine how those terms could apply to me!"

"You are hu3long2, aren't you?" demands the figure. "That same scaly hu3long2 who so smugly and wrongfully denuded Renji of his beautiful crimson tresses?"

Ah, the light dawns. "Yes, I did that, but do you not consider those angelic chorister curls an appropriate recompense?"

The hollow voice snorts. "You have debased my ears with that statement! There is nothing in the world more heinous than your utterly cruel and callous action. And at the hands of an amateur! Those precious locks deserve only worshipful service from the truly devout!

"But hair does grow back?" I offer in appeasement.

"Such deplorable flippancy is only to be expected of someone with your hardened sensibilities. You are fortunate that hair retains the ability to renew itself. Otherwise, the consequences upon you would have been most dire. But take this as a final warning, you heartless iconoclast. Do not you trifle again with Renji's hair and dare desecrate it. A second incident, and your pathetic, sniveling excuse will not longer serve to keep you from my wrath."

The shape begins to lose distinctiveness. "Tell me who you are!" I shout.

"Surely you must have recognized me by now, you miserable worm of a scribbler," replies the dark figure as it slowly disintegrates into tendrils of mist which curl around my wrists like fetters and disappear into my skin, "I am your Renji hair fetish."


	10. Imposition

Title: Imposition

Characters: Renji, Byakuya (RenBya)

Rating: T

Summary: 6th part of Renji – Reflection. Renji faces the question of what it means to be Kuchiki Byakuya's lover.

Warning: Fluff with a few unpleasant things.

Disclaimer: Own no part of Bleach, not even bleach

A/N This chapter probably wouldn't have been possible without the support and encouragement of my gracious readers, especially those who like Renji as he appears in this fic. I've also borrowed various ideas to incorporate, one from the current filler arc, one from Akuni's ByaRen story "The Only Thing", another from Feilyn's "The Stage", and a small one from my own "Matsumoto Reloaded Omake" (self-pimpage alert!).

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Renji paused at the gate to the Fifth Division, nodding at the guards and the various shinigami who came greet him. They appeared green and listless, but Renji knew that these were the hardiest of the lot. Those with weaker constitutions were probably recovering in the Fourth Division or in darkened corners of the barracks. If he had been at a boisterous party the night before to celebrate the installation of his new taichou, belated though the celebration may be, and said party was thrown by the previous taichou of his new taichou at the fabled Kuchiki mansion with a free flow of food and alcohol, he would probably have been found face down in an alley come morning after continuing the celebration with his bosom bows in the tavern of the moment.

Fortunately for his head, he had been one of the hosts, and his ex-taichou and now lover would have been most displeased had he followed the examples of their squad members and left him alone to deal with the aftermath of the party. Besides, when Kuchiki Byakuya claimed a place in your life, celebration took on a whole different meaning. iIntoxication, seduction, passion, surrender, pleasure./i

"Tell the division to assemble," he called, "we will do light drilling this morning." Several faces turned very peculiar shades of green. Renji flashed his trademark grin. "It's my patented Abarai morning recovery technique, perfected after decades of testing, guaranteed to work." His subordinates returned weak smiles and bowed before turning to gather the rest of the division.

The grin smoothed into a somber expression as Renji watched them leave. The past few months had been arduous as he stepped into a position that had been unoccupied since Aizen's betrayal, the main reason for the delay in his promotion party. Byakuya had been one of the taichous supervising the Fifth Division over the years, so its shinigami were accustomed to Renji's comings and goings. However, being taichou was a very different proposition, and division and taichou had perforce to adapt to each other as they negotiated a new hierarchy of authority within the Fifth and it re-learned what having a sitting Taichou meant. Renji's loudness, brashness and confidence served as a sheath that covered the keenly honed blade within, and woe betide any who mistook his forward personality for mere bravado or simplicity that could be challenged. The Fifth Division found quickly that Abarai Taichou's wolf's grin was as much a command as Unohana Taichou's gentle smile, or Kuchiki Taichou's monotone.

On his part, Renji worked hard to reassure his subordinates that he was a taichou they could accept without doubt or trepidation. His status as a war hero did him no harm, indeed he was known as someone who had fought even before war had been declared. His attempts to rescue Rukia and his role in the various exploratory skirmishes during his sojourn in Karakura were prominent in the body of lore concerning the war, and equally well-known were his friendships with the exotic ryoka who had acquired a legendary status in Seireitei, and now casually showed up in his office all hours of the day, Ichigo most of all. The Fifth had started with somewhat mixed feelings towards Ichigo. Aizen had earned their bitterness, for the Fifth had been betrayed most comprehensively among the divisions, but Aizen had been their taichou for a century and had bound their loyalties to him. However, Ichigo's scowling charisma and sharp banter with Renji eased any latent animosities. Orihime's innocent buxom beauty, of course, immediately won her many lovelorn adherents.

The Fifth was beginning to realize that, for the first time in years, they had a taichou who really did think of them as his own, to hold, to lead and to protect. Once Hinamori Momo had awoken from her hypnotic stupor, the Fifth had rallied around their gentle but steely fukutaichou, but Hinamori possessed no bankai, and the shinigami had long memories. Despite her battle merits, she was tainted by her association with Aizen, and more so by her early adamant support, as was Kira Izuru in the Third Division. Furthermore, a fukutaichou might lead a division, but she had no real authority beyond its boundaries, and only with Renji's appointment did the Fifth once again have the taichou they needed to represent the division, speak for them at the taichou meetings and in other arenas, and give them standing among the thirteen divisions. Renji had spent the past few months welding the Fifth Division back into a division from the mere conglomerate of shinigami it had become after Aizen's departure and supervision by a group of taichous who already had divisions of their own to claim them.

Trust was building, Renji thought, as he watched his shinigami take their places. The looks on many faces were nervous, not dubious. They understood Renji well enough by now to believe that they would feel better by the end of the exercise, but they also recollected Renji's pithy summation of his first bankai battle against Byakuya when one of the bolder souls had put the question to Renji. "What doesn't kill you will make you stronger." He had added, "And I think that should be one of our lines when we do squad training," and then, to allay the dread appearing on the faces of those who knew of his Eleventh Division roots, "Though we will draw the line at killing." His comments had blazed across the division like wild fire.

Renji grinned toothily. "Follow my movements, Fifth Division. And you can teach them to your absent comrades when they reappear." He initiated a series of slow exercises and holding poses. At the end of an hour, the green had receded from many faces and had been replaced by light flushes as their owners threw grateful looks at Renji. "Don't forget to drink plenty of water," called Renji as he dismissed them, to a chorus of "Yes, Taichous" and "Thank you, Taichous".

Renji turned to Hinamori, who had appeared at the beginning of their drills. She was looking rather pale, though her eyes were clear. "Are you all right, Hinamori? Still don't look too good."

Hinamori shook her head, then winced. "I'm fine, Abarai-kun. Just the after effects of drinking with Rangiku."

It was Renji's turn to wince. Even his hangover remedy could not counter the effects of a night on the tiles with Matsumoto. "You went drinking with Matsumoto? After the party?" He shook his head. "I wouldn't want to be Hitsugaya Taichou this morning."

Hinamori giggled. "It was girls' night out. Everyone's under the weather, except for Nemu. Rukia-san and Orihime-san were with us too." She shot him a look of teasing mischief and all further questions died on Renji's tongue. It was the same look she had given him when he had limped into the Fifth Division the morning after that first memorable weekend with Byakuya. And the look most of the ranking SWA officers wore when they spotted Byakuya and him out of uniform, be they ever so innocently walking down a busy public avenue. He most emphatically did not want to hear what the girls did on girls' night out.

Then Hinamori looked past him, official poker-face sliding in place. Kuchiki Daisuke, Ryouma and another Kuchiki elder whose name he did not recall but whom he had mentally labeled Daisuke Sycophant No. 1 were coming towards him. Trailing behind them was Kuchiki Satoshi, his face expressionless, though it reminded Renji of Byakuya's when he was masking distaste. He caught Renji's eye, and shrugged. Satoshi was Byakuya's closest Kuchiki associate, and by this time, Renji knew him well enough to read that shrug— he had no part in the proceedings and was here merely as an observer.

"Here they are." Renji thought, his face settling into official lines. "Interesting timing." Again, he pondered their connection to the portion of his previous evening that had definitely not been a celebration, nodding as Kuchiki Daisuke requested an interview, nostrils pinched with distaste he could not quite hide. Renji turned to Hinamori. "I think we are done with drilling for today. Standby please." The second phrase was code for Hinamori to eavesdrop discreetly in the next room.

Leading the way to his office, his mind ran over the events of the past night. He and Byakuya had said farewell to the last guests and taken a tray of leftovers and sake to Byakuya's rooms. As hosts of the large gathering, grabbing a bite had not been possible during the party. Even Renji had managed to keep his sake intake moderate, despite the numerous toasts from his well-wishers.

Byakuya had been filling Renji's cup when he had stilled, attention caught by something in the garden beyond. Renji was less sensitive to reiatsu, but his were battle-honed senses kept sharp in a time of peace by sparring partners who did not believe in holding back. A flicker of the eyelids, and by mutual agreement he and Byakuya rose into shunpo from a kneeling start, grabbing Zabimaru and Senbonzakura from their stands as they ran in tandem out of the room.

A hail of shurikens met them, followed by blasts of both hadou and bakudou spells. Renji's reiatsu blazed forth almost joyfully, and he felt Byakuya's reiatsu rise beside him, red and pink mingling where they met. This was familiar territory for them. Battle-ready, Renji swung Zabimaru in rapid circles while Byakuya took care of the kidou spells.

First attack evaded, they paused to reassess the situation behind Byakuya's danku shield. A baker's dozen surrounded them, dressed in fitting dark garb with no identifiable insignia and cloth masks. Renji would have laughed in disbelief had they not been facing an enemy. Assassins. Someone had sent assassins against Kuchiki Byakuya in the Kuchiki residence itself. Their eyes met and Byakuya gave a miniscule nod accompanied by a flick of reiatsu. Renji grinned and released more of his reiatsu as Byakuya's shield came down. "Now, take this!"

To his surprise, the dark figures swayed and stumbled, but did not collapse. Renji frowned, grin disappearing. Were the assassins more powerful than he had expected from the shurikens he had struck down and the strength of the kidou flung at them? With watchful eyes and holding Zabimaru before him, he swept a comprehensive glance at their attackers.

Next to him, Byakuya's cold monotone spoke, "I see, reiatsu deflectors." Byakuya was much better at detecting minute fluctuations in reiatsu. "How futile." Renji glanced at Byakuya, he was one of the best tacticians among the shinigami. "Close in, Renji."

Renji's grin flashed again. "Yes, Kuchiki Taichou! Capture?"

The words "If you will" floated back to him as Byakuya shunpoed between their opponents, turning on a swift half-step in his favourite senka maneuver.

Grinning madly, Renji made his own move, picking out his first target and abruptly increasing his reiatsu pressure at close quarters. He infused Zabimaru with reiatsu at the pommel as he knocked him unconscious, hearing the nue's battle taunts at the enemy at the back of his mind. As Byakuya had predicted, the proximity negated the protection the deflectors offered, and Renji took down three assassins before the others reacted. His eyes on the three circling him, Renji reined in his reiatsu tightly and watched as they prepared an attack. On that instant, he released his reiatsu and shot forward as they wavered, digging Zabimaru into the solar plexus of his nearest attacker before clocking him on the jaw. Whirling to face the next attacker, he directed a blast of concentrated reiatsu at him, effectively rendering him unconscious. Facing the remaining attacker, his grin widened as he stepped forward, dodging the projectiles flung at him, then met his sword attack with Zabimaru, the impact sending the other's sword flying. Grabbing his opponent's numbed wrist, he twisted his arm behind his back and landed a blow to his neck.

As the dark figure slumped to the floor, Renji glanced over at Byakuya, who was chanting the number of a binding spell at his final opponent, movements unhurried and elegant as he pointed outward. "He is so beautiful," Renji thought, then shook himself wryly. He was hopelessly doting, but they did have more immediately concerns than the way his lover looked in battle, black hair meeting black shinigami uniform, pale face chiseled and still, one arm outstretched at an angle to his body.

When they had searched and secured their unexpected guests, they returned to Byakuya's study. Renji looked at Byakuya worriedly. The iron immobility of battle had faded, replaced by tight lips, a deep frown and the chilling black eyes. Breaking the silence, he broached the subject on both their minds.

"So, Kuchiki clan business?" As the frost deepened, Renji quickly added, "Unless you've pissed someone else off recently?" The dark brows drew sharply together and Renji continued in haste, "Those weren't Soi Fong's bunch for sure. Different styles and abilities. Anyway, we just saw her at the party and she was looking pretty pleased with herself hanging off Yoruichi's arm. I'm sure we didn't insult either of them before they left, or the soutaichou either." Mere prattle on his part, he knew, but born of a sudden wish to distract the mind behind those frozen eyes momentarily from thoughts of gross betrayal.

"Against us, Soi Fong would take command herself. And the soutaichou would send a posse of captains and official documentation."

"Not shinigami, eh. They'd know better. Other noble clans?"

"Our relations with other clans remain, as always, cordial." Byakuya's voice was coldly expressionless. Renji sighed inwardly. Time to face the facts when the one humouring became the one humoured.

"I didn't know the Kuchiki have shinobu retainers. I know your guards but I've never thought of them as such. The Shihouin, of course, they have the entire corps, and surely you'll remember the time Ichigo and Rukia tangled with the Kasugi-Oogi, but I've never really wondered about the other families."

"It besmirches our honour. The Kuchiki are a clan of historians. We have no use for those who live in the dark." The voice was coldly precise, and harsh undertones ran beneath it. Renji winced as he understood Byakuya's fury. This incident cut deeply into Byakuya's pride in his clan and his position as their leader.

"Could these be mercenaries? Did you recognize any of them?"

"It is unlikely that they are mercenaries. Furthermore, secret retainers of a member of the Kuckiki clan would elucidate some puzzling long-term discrepancies in the Kuchiki accounts." Byakuya paused and a hint of pain entered his voice. "The Kuchiki clan is large, and not every member is presented individually to the head, perhaps in this case by deliberate omission. Were all the attackers this evening Kuchiki, even I could not have protected them from this life."

Renji clenched his hands on the sides of his armchair. Byakuya took so much on himself as head of the clan. Carefully, he considered the situation, and found a strand of logic that would ease the roil of emotion within Byakuya. He could offer a lesser but known pain in place of a greater and unexpected one. Leaning forward, he spoke in thoughtful, measured tones, "Actually, if the mastermind is who we suspect it is, I'll be willing to bet that there won't be any Kuchikis in that little troop. The spiteful thing to do would be to recruit Rukongai strays, to use against the Kuchiki who has such a fondness for Rukongai strays." His eyes met Byakuya's arrested dark ones, and he flashed his sharp grin. Briefly, Byakuya touched the tips of his fingers to Renji's knuckles, then returned his hand to the desk. When he spoke again, his voice had resumed its cold monotone.

"I traced the embezzlement back four decades. I had found it perplexing that Ryouma's extravagances did not add up to the sum of his peculations and assumed it was greed, but the funds were apparently channeled elsewhere in light of tonight's attack." The diction turned steely. "It is apparent that some of the Kuchiki were preparing themselves should I prove to be more recalcitrant than I have already been."

It always came back to the dissenting Kuchiki, Renji thought. After that tumultuous council meeting, they had discussed various repercussions, but outright assassination had not been one of them. "The perpetuators come easily to mind, don't they? The fraud appeared in Ryouma's accounts, but that just means the rest are better at covering their tracks." Byakuya nodded as Renji continued. "After all, Ryouma's a follower, not a leader, the man to cook the books, not plan a strike. It's easy to pinpoint who once you figure out the money trail, isn't it? Only the elders have the level of authority to carry out all these actions."

"That is indicated. Such fraud could only have occurred with the connivance of the senior stewards. Besides, no member of Ryouma's household is capable of organizing a clandestine troop. But what I wish to discover is the extent of Kuchiki involvement beyond the elders." Byakuya's voice was coldly dispassionate, but Renji had become remarkably attuned to him over the past months, and beneath Byakuya's implacability, Renji could sense the anger, confusion, betrayal and grief in his reiatsu. He cursed his own inability to do anything for the other man, this was not a situation that could be resolved backed by Zabimaru's power. He recalled the long hours spent with Kira, Hinmamori and Hisagi while they healed, and grim determination filled him.

"So, what are you going to do now?" He would force Byakuya over the rough patches as quickly as he could and hope they landed on the other side with injuries they could handle, however debilitating.

"We have the investigative resources to trace the missing funds now that we know their destination. But we lack the interrogation skills to question the assassins." Byakuya paused and his voice turned arctic. "I am reluctant to involve the Gotei Thirteen in Kuchiki affairs, but they did attack the taichou of the Fifth Division." It was then that Renji realized that a good half of Byakuya's anger was on iRenji's/i behalf.

"Somehow, I don't think I was the main target, perhaps just a bonus, or collateral damage." The second the words left his mouth, Renji swore inwardly. He did not need Byakuya's protection, nor did Byakuya need his, but there was still the matter of caring.

"Abarai Renji can never be regarded as collateral damage." Byakuya's eyes could have frozen ice. Renji placed his hand over Byakuya's until the latter's expression thawed somewhat. Then he grinned wolfishly.

"Well, apparently even after all your warnings at the council meeting to keep them off my back, they decided that you're a lot more dangerous if allied with another taichou than not, and I suppose tonight was a rare opportunity, with the house shields down because of the party. Easier to sneak in." Renji shook his head. It was a well-planned operation in some aspects. Yet, one aspect still puzzled him greatly.

"But I don't get this-- don't they know the kind of power a taichou can command? Surely they have felt your reiatsu often enough and they must have known there would be two of us. They sent very poor opponents against us, and they couldn't have meant to fail."

Byakuya nodded at Renji's comment. He replied after some thought, "A miscalculation, I believe. Most Kuchiki favour the pen rather than the sword. They are content to have the protection of the Gotei Thirteen without truly considering the depth of power in the divisions." Renji was reminded of the lack of knowledge toward the Gotei Thirteen he had noted at the council meeting. It was true that even most of the seated shinigami had never witnessed a taichou's bankai until the Winter War, since bankai was only released against the most relentless enemies. Now that peace was resumed, the usual restrictions against zanpakuto release applied, though a certain latitude was granted the ranking officers. Renji could imagine Zaraki's expression if he need a permission slip before chasing Ichigo down. "The reiatsu deflectors must have played the major part in their strategy, though they did not realize they were defective."

"Defective?" Byakuya's battle awareness always astonished him, though it should not after so many years.

"It is not noticeable with lower levels of reiatsu, but they unravel when set against taichou-level reiatsu."

Renji recalled the opponent who had fainted after a concentrated blast of his reiatsu. "I see now. Wonder where they got such shoddy goods?" An image slid into his mind and a name, "Urahara!" Once mentioned, he felt the rightness of the assumption. "Urahara is certainly the premier supplier of illicit Soul Society merchandise. But why didn't he inform you of the plot? He must certainly have guessed the identity of his buyers." A silence fell as both men mulled over the question. Finally, Renji looked up with a rueful grin. Byakuya's frown remained on his face, but it was tinged with resignation.

"Urahara is scary, the things he gets away with. You do know, right? There's only one person outside the Gotei Thirteen you can ask for help with the interrogation."

"That Demon Cat is frighteningly prescient, as is her devil lover. They even created the opportunity for me to ask without obligation."

"Well, they do owe you a favour now since they didn't inform you of the plot, though I'll bet we're also their entertainment since they must be bored out of their minds now." Renji snorted. "I'm sure they're just waiting for our hell butterflies to arrive." Byakuya's eyelids lowered in acknowledgment. Again, the study was quiet.

Finally, Renji let his hands reach for Byakuya's. "It's going to be nasty. This investigation." And they had not even arrived at the point where they could consider appropriate punishments. That was the prerogative of the Kuchiki clan. Repudiation and exile was likely for the worst offenders, if the Kuchiki did not wish to invoke the laws of Soul Society. And the nobles policed their own.

Byakuya's hands closed over Renji's. "Yes." His tone was dark, but his eyes had lightened to storm-cloud grey, for the moment. Renji understood that. They would repeat this process in the coming days as new evidence emerged.

Byakuya's eyes fell shut as Renji watched, then opened again to stare into crimson. Slowly, he stood up and drew Renji against him with a sigh. Leaning into Renji's shoulder, he whispered, "Enough." The word feathered across Renji's sensitive earlobe. He shivered.

"Deny me not tonight, Abarai Renji, but let Kuchiki Byakuya dissolve in your flame."

Returning to the present, Renji led his unexpected visitors into his office, then waved them perfunctorily to the sofa placed in front of the taichou's desk, ignoring the affronted glares he received in return. He would grant them as much respect as they granted him, and he found nothing in these men to admire, especially after recent events.

They looked around his spartan office curiously, and Renji reflected that they had probably never been in a taichou's office, not even Byakuya's. He wondered what had led them to accost a taichou of the Gotei Thirteen on his own turf. Surely not desperation. He suspected, knowing their ready audacity, that it was a foolish confidence. The men who had given the orders for assassination must have known of its failure when none returned, but they might not have realized that the band was not dead but captured, prevented from suicide by Byakuya's kidou. No one else in the Kuchiki household knew of their uninvited guests and their enemy must have assumed that their hands appeared clean. Their other tracks were likely cleverly hidden beneath layers of subterfuge as well. Had these men come fishing today?

The scrutiny of his guests had shifted to Renji himself, disquieted stares focused on his tattoos and scarlet hair. Renji shrugged inwardly. He knew that many in the Kuchiki clan were still adjusting to his place in Byakuya's life. When he and Byakuya had decided that they would be discreet but open, they had also discussed the conduct of their relationship when in public view. Both were public figures in Seireitei who did not have the luxury of anonymity, Byakuya more so than Renji.

At this point, the entire Gotei Thirteen had to be aware that Kuchiki Byakuya and Abarai Renji were lovers, but both men knew what to expect and what was expected of them as shinigami. On official occasions, in captains' meetings and on duty, they were peers and colleagues, Kuchiki Taichou and Abarai Taichou of the Sixth and Fifth Divisions respectively. Even though Yamamoto Soutaichou permitted their patrol and duty schedules to coincide at their request, it was based primarily on considerations of their effectiveness as a fighting pair. At informal and private gatherings, the semblance of hierarchy was still maintained. Renji's friends dropped his title, but referred to the ever-reserved Byakuya as Kuchiki Taichou, though they were becoming used to his appearances at their Friday night drinking sessions. The only difference was that everyone acknowledged them as a couple, and accompanied it with occasional teasing. Similarly, at the smaller dinner parties Ukitake favoured, Renji and Byakuya were always treated as a pair and seated as such.

Among the lower-ranking shinigami, gossip ran rampant, but it always did when it involved the leaders of the Gotei Thirteen. More pertinent to Renji's concerns, there was no discernible change in morale or discipline in either the Sixth or the Fifth Divisions on their learning that their taichous were sleeping with each other. The Sixth Division would hardly have dared, while Renji was thankful that the Fifth had warmed to him. The homophobic existed and would always exist, but the length of shinigami lifespans meant that, at some point in time, most learned to take things in their stride, and relationships were considered more a matter of compatibility than of gender. In this area, after all, Renji had been Byakuya's longest-serving fukutaichou in his time. But no one dared whisper of nepotism in Renji's promotion. The requirements for captaincy were clear, bankai was rare, and Zabimaru in his towering bankai form spoke volumes for himself. In fact, it was commonly thought that Byakuya had held Renji back from promotion after the war, and current scuttlebutt was that he had wanted to keep Renji by his side for as long as possible until forced to give him up by the Soutaichou himself.

In short, Renji was sure of his footing among the shinigami. But Byakuya had another public face—that of the pre-eminent great noble of Soul Society. In that arena, with its emphasis on lineage and birthright, even Byakuya himself was frantically rewriting the rules beneath the natural hauteur of his demeanor. Renji had no doubt that gossip was as much a major pre-occupation of noble society as it was among the shinigami, but Byakuya was not fond of the social whirl and chose to remain aloof from it. He attended noble gatherings only when he could bring Renji, who was invariably introduced as "Abarai Taichou, my guest". He would then remain by Renji's side throughout the evening, the subtle ease between the two men evident to the more acute. Occasionally, Kuchiki Satoshi and Kuchiki Hikaru joined them and the four men would be seen in friendly conversation. No one cared to offend the Kuchiki outright, though Renji had no doubt that Byakuya and Satoshi fielded the more subtle jabs. All in all, Renji told them, it was very well orchestrated.

Not that he was ungrateful. They were working to consolidate Renji's position in Bykauya's life, as Kuchiki Byakuya's lover and tacitly acknowledged consort. He was not a secret vice hidden under the cloak of night, but someone with a place in Byakuya's home and at his hearth, even if they currently maintained separate residences. Male and of Rukongai origins, it was an unthinkable misalliance, yet Renji was too prominent to ignore. Even if the nobles could overlook his six-foot frame, bright auburn hair, and the tattoos running across his forehead and down his neck, no one could disregard the taichou's cloak and the weight of his reiatsu, however controlled, as he passed. Nor could they fail to register his confident disinterest. To the nobles, he represented an anomaly of the highest degree.

As for Byakuya's immediate household, the Kuchikis who resided with Byakuya had greeted him with cautious acceptance. These were clan members who met with Byakuya's approval-- the Kuchiki owned property enough to house those whom Byakuya could not abide at a distance. In addition, Byakuya's influential steward Senzo had decided to welcome Renji with warmth, and his other retainers followed Senzo's lead. Even Byakuya's private guards bowed in acknowledgment when Renji passed. Though well-hidden, they were not too difficult for him to spot.

For the rest of the Kuchiki clan, Byakuya's recent decisions had created so much turmoil that Renji's insertion had merely added yet another variable to it. But Byakuya was adamant that it was the Kuchiki who would have to adapt to Renji. Only time would tell, though they hoped that familiarity would accustom most of the clan to Renji, as had happened with Rukia.

But if their suspicions panned out, these elders now facing Renji so dubiously would not have that opportunity. Time to end the display, Renji thought, and introduce some Abarai bluntness. He seated himself behind his desk and asked without preamble, "So, what brings you gentlemen here today?"

Kuchiki Daisuke's nostrils flared. But his tones when he spoke remained on this side of courtesy. "We have a request to make of you, Abarai Taichou." So, they too were cutting straight to the point. It was just as well. They were the last men with whom Renji wanted to engage in a dance of manners.

Renji folded his hands. "What is it?" This was an interesting turn of events—Kuchiki Daisuke turned petitioner.

"We desire that you persuade Kuchiki-sama to reconsider his stand on remarrying."

Renji's eyebrows rose to meet his hairline. Were they truly unaware of the previous night's events? Otherwise, they would surely have had more immediate concerns than this. He flicked a glance at Kuchiki Satoshi. One eyebrow was arched, but he merely opened his palm at Renji, giving the initiative to him. Renji addressed his response to Daisuke.

"Do you speak for yourself, or for the Kuchiki council, Kuchiki Daisuke-san?"

The elder looked surprised to hear his name. Renji grinned wolfishly. Did they think Renji would not recognize the key members of the Kuchiki clan? Once you had faced Aizen's assorted, bizarre minions and the possible destruction of all you knew, you always paid attention to your enemies.

Recovering quickly, Daisuke said, "I believe that I speak for my cousins here as well as most of the Kuchiki clan." A nice bit of lawyering, thought Renji. Truly an old fox.

He clasped his palms together and spoke, keeping his voice as bland as water. "Surely you yourself are in a better position to convey the wishes of the clan to Kuchiki Taichou. After all, I am hardly a Kuchiki."

Daisuke's eyes narrowed. "Do not play word games with us. You know very well what you are!" Renji stopped grinning abruptly, and leaned forward. Enough of playing around. Figuring out how much they knew of the previous night was his only concern.

"I do. We are currently in my office. What I do not know is why you have appealed to me when I can hardly share your feelings."

Daisuke's loud sniff met his words. Kuchiki Ryouma laid a hand on Daisuke's shoulder. "If I may speak frankly, Abarai Taichou. If you do persuade Kuchiki-sama to remarry, we will in turn recognize your relationship with him."

For a moment, Renji was stunned. Did they really know what they were asking? Or was everything for them a matter of moving pawns across chessboards? With an effort, he suppressed his reiatsu and kept his voice even. "Recognize our relationship, you say. Which relationship are you referring to? Kuchiki Taichou is my esteemed colleague and fellow taichou of the Gotei Thirteen. As shinigami, we patrol and train together. We protect Soul Society and the living world, and bring the dead here. We obey the orders of Yamamoto Soutaichou and Central 46." Renji paused and looked hard at each elder. Daisuke's lips were twisted with resentment, Ryouma looked stuffed while Sycophant 1 was pale.

"Or are you referring to our personal relationship? Kuchiki Byakuya is my lover. We spend time together off-duty. We share a bed and have sex. If you recognize our relationship," the phrase was repeated with withering scorn, "what does that make me? Your Kuchiki-sama's official mistress?" The three Kuchikis were wide-eyed and flushed, clearly startled by Renji's plain-spoken baldness. "And what will you tell a potential bride? Kuchiki-sama will be with you for stud service only, his days are spent at his Division, and his nights are spent with his official mistress, in either of their beds. But Abarai-san cannot have children. We hope you will bear the Kuchiki heir, thank you very much. You Kuchiki elders, is Kuchiki Byakuya the head of your house, or your prime stallion to put to stud?"

Daisuke's face was red with choler. "I should have expected such vulgarity of a Rukongai stray." Renji stood up, and the Kuchikis jumped back. "No," he replied, his voice a low rumble. The gloves had finally come off on both sides. "Your suggestion itself was unbelievably vulgar. And completely dishonorable, when you should have gone to Kuchiki Byakuya himself. Not to mention disloyal, to sneak behind the back of your clan head. As for the kind of marriage you wish to on him…" he snorted.

"A noble wife knows her duty." Ryouma's voice was pompous.

"A wife that dutiful?" Renji snorted again. His derision was clear. Ryouma flushed dully.

"As a member of the council of elders, Daisuke, I must agree that this is a matter more properly raised with Kuchiki-sama. By your actions today, you have acted against the decision of the council." Satoshi's calm, precise voice spoke into the heated silence. "I did not think you would call me here today to witness this discussion with Abarai Taichou."

"Oh, so you do not represent the Kuchiki council, gentlemen?" Renji grinned sardonically. "Indulging in some rule-breaking? That's rather unexpected, isn't it?"

"You have broken rules yourself too, Abarai Taichou. Did you not go against your taichou and Central 46 in the matter of Kuchiki Rukia's execution?" Sycophant No. 1 finally spoke. His voice was nasal and thready.

"So you thought we have something in common, didn't you?" Renji crossed his arms and his mocking smile grew wider. "When I decided to save Rukia, I knew that Kuchiki Taichou was fully within his rights to kill me, and I was prepared to die for my actions. I didn't have a third party do my dirty work. Sounds like you gentlemen want to have your cake and eat it too." The three Kuchiki elders eyed Renji nastily. "You have chosen most unwisely today," Daisuke snarled.

"Should I take that as a threat?" Renji uncrossed his arms and glanced at Zabimaru on his stand. Daisuke huffed angrily but held his tongue.

Renji grinned wolfishly and indicated the door. "It has been interesting but I'm sure we all have a busy day ahead of us." The three elders looked at each other. Then, shaking out their robes, they stomped to the door. As they were about to step out, he added, "And don't be too surprised if Soi Fong Taichou calls on you." They turned surprised faces to him.

Daisuke was the first to speak. "Soi Fong of the Shihouin cadet branch?"

"Yes, we were attacked last night. We may have Soi Fong investigate." Renji's voice was studiedly casual.

"You will involve another clan in a Kuchiki matter?" Daisuke sounded outraged.

"And how would you know it was a Kuchiki matter?" Suddenly, Renji's eyes were very sharp and his voice soft with menace. "Perhaps you would care to explain, Kuchiki Daisuke?" He raised his voice. "Hinamori Fukutaichou."

The sliding door between their offices opened and Hinamori appeared. The three elders looked shocked. "You will bear witness to the conversation with reference to my mention of an attack?"

"Yes, Taichou."

"In that case, please ask Kuchiki Taichou to step over now. Tell him it is urgent."

With a bellow of rage, Daisuke rushed towards Renji. Hinamori's geki binding stopped him in mid-step.

Renji nodded at Hinamori. "Thank you, fukutaichou. Now, will you gentlemen please be seated till Kuchiki Taichou arrives?"

Much later that day, Renji and Byakuya entered the Kuchiki residence wearily. It had been a grueling day. Shihouin Yoruichi had arrived post-haste in Soul Society, and both men had sat in on the interrogation of the elders while Satoshi had done the recording. Renji felt as miserable as a limp floor rag and he knew Byakuya was worse off than he was. Satoshi had looked worn and pinched when they left him at his gate. The betrayals had hit both Kuchikis hard.

Byakuya's steward Senzo met them at the door. "My lord. Abarai Taichou." He took their taichou's haoris from them.

"Senzo, please convey my apologies to Shouka. I was unable to return for lunch today." Shouka was Byakuya's chef. "Anything of moment?"

The steward bowed. "Masahito-sama arrived before lunch today with some of his men. He said that he had heard you would be lunching at the residence today, and that he needed a word with you. We accommodated him in your study, but he left in a hurry a short while later, saying that he had left the necessary item in your rooms. He put a kidou lock on your door and we did not think it appropriate to disturb it."

Renji and Byakuya looked at each other, hands going to zanpakuto hilts. Kuchiki Masahito was the second of Daisuke's sycophants on the council. Leaving Senzo behind, they soundlessly treaded their way to Byakuya's rooms. Delicately, Byakuya broke the kidou lock and Renji opened the door, sliding quickly into the study at a low angle. The room looked as they had left it that morning. Rapidly, Byakuya did a quick search while Renji guarded his back. Nothing.

They made their way carefully through Byakuya's suite. It was not until they neared his bedchamber that they paused. There was an alien reiatsu coming from it, but it was low and erratic. Byakuya flung open the doors, and for an instant, both men stared dumbstruck into the room.

A nude, delicately built youth lay on the spread futon, gagged and bound. His colour was hectic and he was moaning and shifting listlessly. He was also aroused, swollen red organ half-lifted from his limbs. Renji's eyes registered the thick auburn hair and dark lines that circle his arms like armbands. Then the youth turned his head, and Renji found himself starting into bewildered and pained violet eyes.

"Low, despicable…" the angry thought had barely taken form when he felt Byakuya's reiatsu explode beside him. That killing intent—he had not felt it since the battlefields of the war. For a moment, his lungs threatened to collapse from the pressure, then his own reiatsu rose and he quickly formed a protective shield around the room and the youth on the bed, though he had already fainted from the press of the initial burst. But Renji's first concern, as always, was Byakuya.

"Kuchiki Byakuya!" Renji snapped, pushing against Byakuya's reiatsu and digging his fingers into Byakuya's shoulders so hard he could feel the bones grind. "Control your reiatsu."

Awareness returned to Byakuya's eyes through the dark haze of fury and the reiatsu storm died down, though his reiatsu still filled his suite, fluctuating violently. 'Zabimaru!' Renji called. 'Where's Senbozakura?'

'Already on the job,' the nue replied tersely. A bankai-level shinigami losing control caused too much turbulence in both their worlds. They were lucky that the walls, constructed of lightweight materials, were still standing about them.

Renji shook Byakuya lightly, reiatsu still pressed against Byakuya's. It took a while, but the black eyes did swerve to meet Renji's, lucid awareness in them. Renji's tension came down a notch. "I will see to the household, and then I will return." The words were clipped and precise. 'Zabimaru, tell Senbonzakura.'

'She heard. She says to return quickly.'

'I will. Do what you can.' He hated to leave Byakuya, but Senbonzakura was the most essential presence to Byakuya at this point if he was to regain control and there were other matters to consider.

Gently, he wrapped the unconscious stranger in a blanket and left the room, keeping his reiatsu pressure high in a contained radius around himself. Senzo met him in the main part of the house, pale and shaking, but apparently still in enough command of himself to direct the household. A rather remarkable man, Renji thought absently, given that Byakuya had just shown how dangerous a master he was. Around him, Renji could see Byakuya's private guards, looking green, stagger between the fallen bodies of his other retainers.

"Abarai Taichou, what happened to my lord? We felt…" the steward trailed off.

"He is fine, but I need to return to him immediately. Please reassure the household." Renji spoke in a rapid bark. He laid his bundle on the floor. "Look after this child and send for a physician. It looks like he has been fed too much aphrodisiac."

Senzo eyed the auburn hair and comprehension lit his eyes. "I will, Abarai Taichou." He essayed a weak bow. "We will leave my lord to your care."

Renji patted his shoulder. "Good man. Thank you." Half his awareness was still tracking Byakuya's reiatsu. Senbonzakura had managed to ease the violence in his reiatsu, but Zabimaru was urging his speedy return.

Byakuya was sitting in meditation in the middle of the room. Quietly, Renji padded over to him and knelt facing him so he could react instantly to Byakuya's movements. Byakuya's eyes were closed, but his features did not appear calm to those who could read the signs. Beneath the skin, the flesh was spasming and contorting faintly.

Renji wrapped his reiatsu carefully around Byakuya, not a shield this time, but a feather-down cloak into which he poured all the gentler emotions they shared. In his mind, he played over the scenes where Byakuya had won his love and admiration, and allowed himself to descend into a state of meditative calm.

Time itself remained suspended until Byakuya opened his eyes. They were a steely gray, but the control he so prized had regained the upper hand. He spoke in a low, hushed voice. "I apologize, Renji, for the insult to you. I had not thought they would prove so ignoble in their deeds."

Insult to him? Renji thought. The greater insult had been dealt to Byakuya. "Byakuya," he began. But Byakuya had resumed speaking.

"Perhaps I held myself too distant from the clan. They name me the strongest Kuchiki leader in the history of the clan, yet it appears that in its eyes, I am so weak, so amenable to manipulation and control, so casual in my relations and so faithless to those to whom I have pledged myself that it can perpetuate such acts against me without fear of reprisal. It has treated as dross the most cherished part of my life, and that, I find unforgivable."

Byakuya's rage had met disillusionment and old pain, and iced over, coalescing into a generalized antipathy, Renji realized. Byakuya was too dangerous to remain in this state. He leaned forward and gripped Byakuya's hands firmly. Provoking Byakuya further was not his intent, but he had to break through to him.

"Byakuya, listen." He tightened his hands till grey met solemn crimson and grew intent. "I want you to use me." Surprise lightened the grey and he pressed on quickly. "Use me, flaunt me in their faces. You have tried to keep your plans separate from our relationship but I don't want you to do that anymore. Use me, my place in your life, my position as a taichou in the Gotei Thirteen, to push your plans for your family forward."

As Byakuya began to shake his head reflexively, Renji shook him. "No, hear me out. This… resistance is not going to end. Perhaps it will be less vicious than what Daisuke has done, perhaps not. Let's face it head on, don't let it distract you from your plans for your family. The timing of us and your plans was coincidental, but they're never going to believe that, so use this, make me a reason for your actions. Let me be your explanation for pushing into Rukongai, shove my origins into their faces, remind them that Rukongai matters, that a dog of Inuzuru is now a taichou they have to reckon with, that you are not throwing the Kuchiki away on a useless gesture. Then openly make me your shield against remarrying, insist that you must choose your own heir."

"No!" Byakuya burst out, looking startled. Then he gathered himself. "No, that will make you a greater target. This is not a quick fight to the death. Renji, their spite and their malice generate only a slow and corrosive decay. Do not ask this."

"Idiot." Renji's voice was exasperated "We're already targets. Let's make it more difficult for them. As for their spite, we have made pledges to each other. Do you think you would break them? We will hold our pledges dearly. Let me help. I am not someone they can dismiss, and you're an idiot if you don't make use of all the resources at your call. You're not asking, I'm offering. At least have the graciousness to accept the help of another taichou!"

"Renji!" Heat and umbrage had entered Byakuya's voice. "We are together because you're Abarai Renji, not because you're a Gotei Thirteen taichou. Do not expect me to use you in this manner!" Grey eyes darkened to a glare and Renji glowered in response. Now, he had to fan the incipient heat.

"Did you think I wouldn't know that, you stiff-necked prideful ass? When you mentioned me at your Kuchiki meeting, it was to protect me, to keep them off my back. But I also know that you're the clan leader. I don't understand the nobility thing, but I do understand leadership. Aren't you the Kuchiki lord, don't you want your clan to survive and flourish, doesn't it deserve everything you can give it, the best of you?" Renji's tone acquired more force with each word.

"It is not deserving of you. It is not worth you." Once again, Byakuya looked startled by his outburst. His face was drawn into fine lines, tense and pale, but the glacier-like quality was melting and cracking.

Renji growled deep in his throat. "Is what we have so fragile then? Just who do you think I am?" He looked hard at Byakuya, unyielding and demanding.

Byakuya's eyes widened. "Renji…"

"Yes, I am Abarai Renji, formerly of Inuzaru, now taichou of the Fifth Division. I am soul companion to Zabimuru, the most pugnacious, obnoxious baboon on either side of death, and let's not even mention the snake. Do you think I do not know what I am asking, Kuchiki Byakuya?"

He gripped the front of Byakuya's shikahausho. "Are we not strong enough to stand for each other? You say there are feelings between us. Are they so fragile and brittle they have to be put under a glass case in a museum, or kept under a preservation kidou like your Kuchiki records? Are they like the objects in a china shop, to be destroyed while the bull remains hale and hearty? Are we the bull or the shop?" Byakuya was staring at him, arrested.

"Decide, Kuchiki Byakuya. Or let me tell you what we are and what we have. It is tender, but not fragile." His hands moved upward to cup Byakya's face, thumbs gently massaging the tightened skin over the high cheekbones.

"It is breathing." One hand gripped Byakuya's throat in an inexorable grip, but not punishing. Byakuya swallowed and he felt the movement run down his palm.

"Living." The hand slid down to rest on Byakuya's crotch, fingers moving in a deliberate caress until Byakuya moaned.

"Impetuous." Renji bent forward and laid kisses on Byakuya's sternum. He could feel Byakuya's heart pounding beneath his lips and he smiled.

"Rough." Once again, both hands met at Byakuya's collar, and tore the shikahausho down the back with an application of reiatsu.

"Terrifying." He buried his face in Byakuya's neck. Both of them were trembling.

"Passionate," he whispered, biting the skin under his lips. He felt Byakuya's hands come up to circle his arms almost painfully.

"Dangerous." His own hands went to Byakuya's bare back and scratched long furrows downwards. Byakuya jerked and a sob escaped from his throat.

"Gentle." His lips trailed up Byakuya's neck and bestowed a chaste kiss on his lips. He raised his eyes to meet Byakuya's. They looked like silver lightning. "But never fragile. Any more questions?" Mutely, Byakuya shook his head and Renji's wolf's grin stretched his lips. "Then let me show you more."

The setting sun lit the room with an orange glow, sending motes of golden dust dancing through the musky air and tinting with warm hues the supine bodies of its occupants. Renji lay on his back, staring at the ceiling as his body cooled. Beside him, he could hear Byakuya's harsh pants as he too struggled to catch his breath.

At last, Byakuya spoke, his tone thoughtful and dry. "Did you just try to persuade me with sex?"

Inwardly, Renji heaved a sigh of relief. "Did I succeed?" he drawled lazily.

"As there is no sensation remaining in my lower body, I believe I must rely on your generosity."

"Smartass." Then Renji grew serious. "Byakuya, never forgot that we have well-wishers, even among the Kuchiki. Rukia, Satoshi and his people, this household, all the people who truly do think of you as Kuchiki Byakuya, strongest leader in the history of the Kuchiki."

"Thank you, Renji. You have poured your largesse into me and I am undeserving." The words were soft.

"Don't you get sappy on me. I've stalked you, worshiped you, chased you, made you the bogeyman for my own ineffectiveness. And yet, Kuchiki Byakuya is a greater man than the one I thought I chased all those years. He is power restrained by duty and tempered by humanity." Renji found Byakuya's hand and their fingers curled around each other.

"You have entrusted your honour to my hands. I will hold it closely with my own."

"No, you will kick and pummel with it, and if I don't like what you're doing, I'll call you on it and we will bankai the ass off each other. Is that satisfactory?"

"I do have some stipulations." The voice was grave but a thread of amusement ran through it.

"Things are never simple with you, are they? Let's hear them."

"You will move into my suite here at the residence."

"Done. That's not much of a change from now anyway, I'll just be moving all my stuff over." Byakuya had refused to stay over in the taichou's quarters in the Fifth, something about not wanting to be seen limping away from the Fifth Division at cockcrow. "What else?"

"We will repeat our pledges to each other at an official and public ceremony."

Renji choked. "Kuchiki Byakuya, are you asking me to marry you?"

Byakuya's hand clenched in his. "I know of no such ceremony between two men."

Renji sighed. "If there is, I'm sure you'll find it. Okay." He returned the pressure of Byakuya's hand.

They fell silent, contemplating changes that were not quite changes. Then Byakuya broke the silence. "Share your thoughts with me, Renji."

"I was just thinking, Rukia and I made our way from Rukongai, district by district, until we reached Seireitei, and the Shinigami academy. Now I will be your guide into Rukongai, district by district. Life can be strange this way."

Silence fell again. This time, it was Renji who picked up the conversation. "Byakuya, I know that you and Satoshi-san have already surveyed the lower districts in Rukongai, since you're going to station historians in Rukongai. But you haven't seen the higher districts yet. The next time I go into Rukongai off-duty, will you accompany me?"

"You venture into Rukongai?" Byakuya's voice was astonished. Renji had not mentioned his visits.

"You know that SWA project called the 'Cross-Dressing Dolls of Seireitei'? Those safe houses for children in the higher districts that were set up from the profits?"

"Ah." Despite its charitable nature, the men of Seireitei could never decide if the Dolls project was famous or infamous.

"When you've been busy, or after a patrol, I've stopped by to talk with the kids, or cook for them." Renji paused and took a breath, then continued hesitantly, "I didn't mention this because I was not yet ready to show you what I had come from, but now I think I've been a idiot."

"Renji." The word was dryly affectionate and exasperated. Byakuya's thumb soothed over his knuckles. "I will be honoured to accompany you on your next visit."

"We will go in uniform. The people of Rukongai need to know that even the taichous of Seireitei will walk among them."

A soft sigh wafted through the large room. "You always put yourself in the line of fire, do you not?"

"I'm not the only fool who likes the frontline. Merely joining you there, lover."

X

To epilogue


	11. Interlude Post Imposition

Title: Imposition Interlude

Characters: Renji, Byakuya (RenByaBya)

Rating: T

Summary: Omake series to 6th part of Renji – Reflection, "Imposition".

Warning: Bawdy humour.

Disclaimer: Own no part of Bleach, not even bleach

A/N What can I say, my sense of humour got the better of me, yet again. XD.

XXXX

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**Omake 1 Kidou practice**

"Say, Byakuya," began Renji. "I've always wanted to ask you something but never quite dared to." They were lying on their futon, Renji's head pillowed on Byakuya's chest while the latter ran his fingers through Renji's head of curls. The fingers paused, then resumed their stroking.

"And you have now found the courage?" Byakuya's deep voice held mild amusement.

Renji leaned closer. "Well, I figure a lover has special privileges." Saying 'Byakuya' and 'lover' close together invariably gave him a secret thrill.

"Oh?"

"It's about your kidou practice." Renji took a breath. "I've always wondered. Did you practice in front of mirrors? Ouch!" He shook his hair free of Byakuya's sudden grip.

"Perhaps you would care to explain." Byakuya's tone was one of polite curiosity.

"You're the only kidou master I know who looks perfect when you use kidou. The way you do that hand lifting thing? I've seen Aizen use kidou, and he makes it look easy, but it's not beautiful. Even the female shinigami. Isa Nanao still looks like a stern schoolmistress, just scarier. Hinamori looks determined and like she wants to plow through a brick wall. Rukia's shikai with Sode no Shirayuki is gorgeous, but when she uses kido, she looks exactly the same as when she's going to whale on Ichigo. You're the only one I've seen who looks beautiful, and the only explanation I can come up with is that you practiced with a full-length mirror."

"An interesting assumption."

"So, did you or not?"

"A Kuchiki always appears elegant."

"Ha, thought so." A contemplative pause.

"Hey, Byakuya, know what else we could be practicing in front of a mirror?"

xxx

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**Omake 2 Horse tales**

Renji staggered into Byakuya's study and collapsed in a heap on the sofa. Byakuya looked up from his accounts and arched an eyebrow. "Is my private training ground now completely unusable?"

"Naw, we didn't even go into shikai. At least, I didn't but you know that idiot can't seal Zangetsu. But he didn't use Getsuga Tensho so the grounds are fine. But I'm so hungry I could eat a horse." He fumbled at the coffee table in front of him. There was always a selection of crackers and sweets laid out, Renji's appetite being what it was.

"Speaking of horses, I hear that you referred to me as a stallion." Renji paused and looked up. Byakuya's eyes held that particular, very recognizable glint. "And a stud."

Renji gave a resigned sigh. "I should have expected that this would be the one thing you would pick out from that conversation."

A shadow crossed Byakuya's face, colouring it with grief and betrayal. Immediately, Renji reached out with his reiatsu, and Byakuya's expression cleared as he basked in his partner's warmth. "Satoshi Oji-san was rather struck by your remark. In fact, he elaborated on it at some length."

"Old lech," grumbled Renji under his breath. Byakuya ignored his comment.

"He was rather pleased that you rate my prowess and stamina so highly."

Renji broke into a coughing fit as he choked over the dry cracker.

"It is, I believe, a point of Kuchiki pride with him." Renji doubled over and it took a while for him to regain his breath.

"That's done it, Byakuya. I'm sleeping in the Division. No riding for you tonight."

XXX

x

**Omake 3 Uke**

"I think it's Abarai-kun," said Hinamori Momo, eyes sparkling. "After all, he does limp into the division quite often."

"Yes," replied Matsumoto Rangiku, frowning slightly. "But all through the meeting with Taichou this morning, Kuchiki Taichou was surreptitiously rubbing his lower back, and I swear he was masking a limp when he left, though he quickly went into shunpo."

She looked over at Unohana Retsu. "Can you shed any light on this, Unohana Taichou?"

Unohana smiled her gentle smile and replied in her light, placid voice. "You know all patient information is confidential, Rangiku." Her smile deepened. "But I do think the both of them are extremely well-matched."

Matsumoto tapped a finger against her lips. "Hmmm, that sounds like an equal opportunity answer to me."

At that moment, the door swung open and Rukia entered. Matsumoto leapt on her with a glad cry. "Ah, Rukia, just the person to ask!"

Rukia's eyes lowered demurely. "You flatter me, Rangiku. I will give of my poor best."

Matsumoto waggled her eyebrows. "That's the spirit!" She set both hands at her waist. "So, tell us, Abarai-kun and Kuchiki Taichou, who's the uke?"

Rukia coughed lightly. "It is a delicate matter. After all, you are talking about my best friend and my honoured brother."

"Oh, come on, Rukia," wheedled Matsumoto. "It's just girl talk among girls."

Rukia curled her fist at her lips. "In that case, since you are invoking the Sacred Order of Sisterhood, I will endeavor to provide a satisfactory answer. Based on personal observation and residence in the same mansion…"

"Oh, Rukia, please get on with it!" Kiyone was bouncing in her seat.

Rukia gave a slight bow. "On my Third Seat's orders. In brief, I believe they take turns. But how it is decided, whether each gets to be seme or uke an equal number of times, the demands pertaining to seme and uke behavior, that awaits further research. However, I can assure you that I frequently see _both_ of them limp together from the residence in the morning."

Anything else Rukia might have said was lost in the swell of fevered SWA fangirl squeals.

XXX

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**Omake 4 Fangirls again**

Matsumoto banged on the podium. "All in order," she called. "I'm first. I have a mini-report and a fund-raising proposal!" At the word fund-raising, the female shinigami fell silent. Ise Nanao nodded briskly. "Please go ahead, Rangiku."

"Now, we have male Taichou A and male Taichou B, both young, both good-looking, both unattached, both undoubtedly two of the most eligible bachelors in Seireitei, with hordes of female admirers. Then one day, all of Seireitei wakes up and realizes that said two taichous have been taken off the market at one fell swoop, because… drum roll please… they've decided that they would rather be together than with any one of their admirers! So a day of National Mourning is declared among the female population of Seireitei. However, everything has returned to normal by the next day. In fact, they have more female admirers than ever and not a few male admirers too! How do you explain this phenomenon?"

Matsumoto held out her index finger. "There is only one answer! We've realized that they're a lot hotter together than they would be with any of us! So, I propose we take advantage of this interest and put out several collections of trading cards with their couple photos printed on the cards! We can have the Taichou collection, the Casual Collection, the Intimate Collection…"

Ise raised her hand. "Halt, Rangiku. If you will recall, the last time we tried this, Kuchiki Taichou destroyed our photographic equipment and gave Kiyone and Nemu a huge scare." Kiyone nodded vigorously. "And Abarai Taichou is even more hot-tempered."

Matsumoto smiled. "Ah, but this time, we have a secret weapon! And miniaturized cameras straight from Urahara-san. Rukia, please address the SWA."

Rukia stood up. "Thank you, Rangiku. Based on my preliminary survey, I believe that this project will pose no problems. In fact, I've brought some of my best samples, which can be converted right away into a couple of collections, if Nemu-san will help with the technological aspects." She looked at Nemu, who nodded. Picking up several envelopes, she distributed them around the table.

There were collective exclamations around the room. "Oh my! Abarai-kun is slapping Kuchiki Taichou's butt!" "What is the shutter speed on this, how did you get a shot of Kuchiki Taichou pulling off Abarai's hair tie?" "I'm going to faint, you caught them _kissing_?!" "Rukia, you're amazing!"

Rukia merely smiled modestly and exchanged a triumphant look with Matsumoto.

XXX

x

**Omake 5 Renji H. Fetish**

This poor, beleaguered author sits once again at her computer, R. H. Fetish perched on her shoulder, scrutinizing every tap of her fingertips on the keyboard with eagle eyes.

"Do you have to do this?" I ask irritably. "I told you I wouldn't cut his hair short anymore!"

The black figure shakes its head sternly. "You are not to be trusted, having already offended once. Besides, a promise not to cut his hair off doesn't imply a promise not to keep his hair short. I know you've been thinking that there are so many Renjis with long hair in other fanfics that it won't matter if the Renji in this fic doesn't grow his hair out."

I jerk upwards in shock. "How…," then bite my tongue as R. H. frowns with thunderous satisfaction.

I sigh in resignation. "Really, I don't get you. I had Byakuya make it up to Renji. Surely he was contrite enough to satisfy you? Renji was certainly pleased."

"I am your Renji Hair Fetish," sniffs R. H., "not your ByaRen fetish."


	12. Legacy

Title: Legacy

Characters: Byakuya, Renji (RenBya)

Rating: M+

Summary: 7th part of Renji – Reflection. The penultimate chapter, only with a fluffy Epilogue left. As the title indicates.

Warning: Decorous lemon, but a lemon's still a lemon.

Disclaimer: Own no part of Bleach, not even bleach

XXX

XXX

A pitiful look was all it took. And Renji was bending over to pick up the ecstatically squirming little body, oblivious to the muddy prints decorating his white taichou's cloak. Around him danced a circle of Rukongai children, giggling as they pointed at the puppy's antics. His arms full of madly licking half-grown mutt, Renji's height and appearance never appeared less menacing, and the more daring of the children were already rushing in to claim his legs and demand a ride while Renji laughingly called them to order.

One eye on the rich sweet red bean soup he was ladling into bowls, the other eye, as ever, on his lover, Byakuya marveled at the ease and contained power of the man who had grown to maturity in these mean streets and who still navigated them so comfortably. Not many of these children romping here would see adulthood, and still fewer would possess the reiatsu that would draw them to Seireitei and into the shinigami academy. And an ever-diminishing number would survive their early assignments or ascend to the ranks of the seated officers, let alone attain the position of fukitaichou or taichou. The same, of course, could be said of any shinigami. Byakuya often contemplated the combination of luck and talent that saw him in his present eminence. And what was difficult for the Kuchiki clan head would present almost insurmountable odds for a child of Rukongai. Yet, several had succeeded beyond all expectation and brought deepest Rukongai into Seireitei, Abarai Renj among that number.

And now, as Renji had promised, he was guide to Kuchiki Byakuya of the Kuchiki clan, leading the first of the Kuchiki into Rukongai. Together they walked the narrow alleys and broader avenues while Renji read Rukongai with native eyes and a forensic thoroughness, showing Byakuya things he and Satoshi could discover only with difficulty The hidden nooks and crannies a child could hide, the scrawled marks on walls that represented messages or territorial claims by the different gangs that populated the seedier environs, how to find information on the households or shops where a begging child could obtain scraps, or, if those were not forthcoming, the meanest shopkeepers from whom stealing would be a pleasure, how one found, hoarded and shared necessary water and clothing, the interpretation of the rust-red stains on the street or at the base of a wall. All the necessary bits of information that, pieced together, formed the jigsaw puzzle of Rukongai survival, especially in these higher districts.

"Life can be strange," as Renji had so sapiently remarked. When Byakuya had first envisioned Abarai Renji, the man of Rukongai, as counterpart to his noble of Seireitei, he had never imagined that he would essay Rukongai by Renji's side, as Renji was traversing noble Seireitei by his. This was a truer balance than he had ever envisaged, one not only of taichou and taichou, but also of man and man, each facet of their lives notching into another through effort and understanding. One day, he would invite Satoshi to accompany them, but for now, these times with Renji were his alone to zealously guard, even as he watched and absorbed.

The first times Byakuya had ventured into upper Rukongai in Renji's company, sullen and puzzled looks had greeted them as they made their way through the streets of the higher Rukongai districts. The white cloaks identified them beyond all doubt, and the weight of their spirit pressure served as warning to would-be malefactors. None could deny that these two men were the ranking shinigami of Seireitei.

Yet, the taichous of Seireitei did not frequent such areas, unless leading a troop at a run through the district. They did not stroll casually through the busier streets, engrossed in conversation, one gesticulating animatedly, the other quietly nodding at his companion. Still less did members of the legendary high nobility deign to set foot in Rukongai, if one discounted the eccentric and fallen Shiba clan, and Byakuya, by his dress and demeanor, clearly bore the imprint of his heritage. It was not unusual to hear the quickly suppressed gasps as he walked past, revealing the "six" on the back of his cloak. If the high nobility appeared impossibly distant in the cloistered reaches of Seireitei, then Kuchiki Byakuya was a legend among legends, a name to be whispered and imagined, never someone to be beheld in the flesh. He often wondered, not without irony, if his appearance in their midst had tarnished the image of the noble in their minds. Renji had laughingly declined to speculate, saying, with that half-mocking, half-good humoured glint in his eyes, that for him, Byakuya's presence was infinitely preferable to his absence.

Today, this was their last stop, the third of the three safe houses for children that Renji had made his particular concern. When Renji had introduced him to the regular helpers at the safe houses, he had been met with awe, suspicion and no little disbelief. Byakuya was inclined to think that if Renji had not vouched for him, his identity might not have been established so rapidly and so conclusively. Even so, the adults had been chary of him, and protective of the children in their charge. To them, the nobles of Seireitei were even more unpredictable than the hoodlums that populated their corner of Soul Society.

It was only after several visits, when they had watched him set his hand willingly to whatever task Renji assigned him, since no one else had quite figured out how to give an order to Kuchiki Byakuya, that their wariness had diminished, though he was still treated with the careful distance one might show to a not quite domesticated predator. It amused him that Renji, who was the more obvious predator of the two of them, had achieved a comfortable familiarity with many of the adults. He was deferential to the matrons, comradely with the older men, and fraternal to the younger men and women. As for the children, they were charmed by someone prepared to play the fool with them, to catch them in strong arms and respond to their piping requests. Byakuya they appeared to regard in the light of a distant uncle who was too dignified to romp with them but who was an unimpeachable source for candy and who would lend the occasional ear to arbitrating between complaints. Their acceptance had come more quickly than that of their elders, since children knew less of his reputation and judged by different criteria.

Byakuya reflected that Renji had been right, the people of Rukongai, especially its children, needed to understand that even the taichous of Seireitai would walk among them. Every step he took would also ease the passage of his clan into Rukongai.

Ladling done, he caught Renji's eye. Renji raised his voice and gathered the children, and with loud whoops, they made a beeline for the tables and the sweet dessert. Bowl in hand, he sat beside Renji, luxuriating in the sensation of their reiatsu knitting together. Around them rose and fell the clamour of childish voices, and he listened as Renji carried on half a dozen different conversations at once. Feeling a tug on his sleeve, he looked down into a pair of bright, imploring eyes. Glancing at their owner's empty bowl, he repressed a smile and extended his arm, allowing a pair of inquisitive eyes to peer into his sleeve. A happy squeal sounded and small hands extracted a packet of sweets. He placed a hand on a thin shoulder and gave an admonitory frown, and the shoulders slumped, mildly crestfallen, though their possessor quickly recovered and began sharing out the contents of the packet as Byakuya had indicated.

Beside him, Renji chuckled and, for a moment, rested his hand over Byakuya's under the table and squeezed it affectionately. His partner had not missed that little byplay. Byakuya was by habit and preference reserved in public, but now he wished he could lean into Renji and partake more closely of his warmth while he enjoyed this sojourn away from Seireitei. The past two months had been arduous for him and these visits to Rukongai, despite the wealth of new experiences he had to assimilate and the cautious looks he faced, were times of grace and recuperation.

The results of the investigation into his attempted assassination had sapped the heart of the Kuchiki clan. Two elders, Kuchiki Daisuke and Kuchiki Ryouma, had conceived and approved the shinobi squad, retaining general oversight, while the key adult members of their households were involved in the identification and training of suitable candidates. As Renji has surmised, there were no Kuchikis among the assassins, and Daisuke had technically kept his hands clean of attempted murder, as he had merely suggested to his chief adjutant that Byakuya was an inconvenient clan leader to follow. However, the money trail had been incontrovertibly established, and had proven the connivance of two other elders, themselves senior stewards. They had been unaware of its ultimate destination, Daisuke merely assuring them the funds had been procured for the future security of the clan, but were judged no less culpable. For those crimes, all involved were removed from all Kuchiki properties and possessions, exiled from the clan and stripped of the Kuchiki name. They were also placed under close surveillance for the rest of their existence.

As for the assassins, Byakuya had maintained that they were merely tools and could not be held accountable. As such, they had been offered the chance to follow their masters into exile or leave. Byakuya could only marvel at the loyalty that had led some to suicide to expiate the failure of their mission and the rest into exile. They, too, would be watched, lest they harbour some misguided notion of revenge. Indeed, the purloined Kuchiki funds had been well-spent to purchase so many lives.

Yet, Byakuya was under no illusion that these merely represented the most openly refractory of his opponents among the Kuchiki. There remained those who disapproved and dissented, if perhaps not to the point of open revolt. Upon contemplation, however, Byakuya decided that dealing with those who actively opposed his policies was preferable. Vigilance against subtle sabotage was thankless and tiring, and almost inevitably futile.

The remaining elders had been stricken by the revelation of their peers' betrayal, and had thrown their weight behind the only viable Kuchiki clan head. But despite the support of the remaining elders, the influential Kuchiki Satoshi at the forefront, sentiment in the clan was still uncertain as it absorbed the sudden events of the past few months. The news of the assassination attempt had merely added another jolt to its disquiet. By his actions, Byakuya had effectively swept away old certainties, and reconfigured the futures of its individual members as well.

Many of the senior Kuchiki were still in shock, torn between horror at the breaching of loyalty oaths, and a sense that Byakuya was effecting too much change, too quickly. Archivists and other members who had grown too comfortable feared they would be dispossessed of their sinecures, threatened by eager and younger clan members nipping at their heels. The traditionalists found a leader who refused to bear an heir of the body incomprehensible, yet Byakuya's unassailable power and strength left them confounded. The opportunists were unsure which way to swing, though the defeat of a full third of the Kuchiki council was rapidly deciding matters for them. The branch leaders were frantically calculating how the changes in succession policy would affect their branches, if it would herald the potential for power or swing their traditional rivals beyond their reach. The unexpected vacating of four council seats had also left a power vacuum on the council that spelled opportunity but would take much manoeuvering to fill. Last but not least, there were those who disapproved of his and Renji's relationship and saw in it a sign of the decline of the clan. The reverberations from the past few months would probably take years to settle, and neither Byakuya nor Satoshi could predict the final disposition of the clan. They could only guide events and aspirations.

As for Byakuya and Satoshi, they had personally borne the brunt of the investigation, and treachery that cut so close weighed heavily on their souls. Byakuya had ordered Satoshi into the living world to be hosted by Urahara Kisuke and Shihouin Yoruichi—Urahara's flippant conversation and magpie mind, as well as his role in the events of the last century would certainly interest the historian in Satoshi and take his mind off current events. And the Demon Cat that was Yoruichi would doubtless find ways to tease Satoshi out of his low spirits.

On his part, Byakuya had thrown himself into division and clan matters, but he had Renji to drag him from work and melancholy, and the press of avid eyes belonging to those who had heard of rumblings in the Kuchiki clan but were not privy to the details. And Renji to induct him into this little oasis of childish smiles, refuge to these children who had no innocence to lose and little else as well, but who had found laughter and some joy in the quotidian activities of their small community.

He watched as Renji led the children in washing their empty bowls and restacking them. Then, they made their customary round of farewells, and he and Byakuya were taking their usual route back to Seireitei, one that avoided the areas of human habitation.

Once they were alone in the wilder reaches of Rukongai, Renji shot a glance at Byakuya and smiled their private smile. "Looks like you've finally won over Jun-chan. He's the toughest nut to crack of that bunch. He's a good kid." His tone was fond and amused.

Emotion suddenly welled up in Byakuya, and the thought that had been nudging his mind for the past two months could no longer be contained. This man who stood beside him could alternately give his soul respite and ignite him with a single sidelong look, and he would never forget the afternoon Renji had so passionately claimed the right to walk beside him, resolute, confident and indestructible. Yet, when he accompanied Renji on these visits and observed his rough kindness to the boys and careless gentleness with the girls, inquietude and grief would unexpectedly well up in him, postilions to the insistent conviction that Renji was born to be a father.

"I cannot give you children." The words were quiet, but to his ears, desperate.

Renji immediately halted. "Eh?" His eyes went wide with astonishment.

"I cannot give you children." Byakuya repeated. The words repreated came more easily, but were no less painful.

Renji's eyes narrowed and he turned to face Byakuya. "Byakuya, what's wrong?" he asked urgently, hands coming up to grip Byakuya's shoulders.

"You deserve to father children of your own. Children are not within my power to give."

The crimson eyes remained narrowed as Renji mulled over his words. Then the bold features grew stony as Byakuya watched with a sinking heart. "Does this mean you would rather I had children with some faceless, unknown female than be childless with you?"

Byakuya's breathing seized. He had not considered the implications of his words, his fixation on Renji's fatherhood and the image of red-headed children clinging to his shoulders and arms had precluded that. What had he been thinking? He had not, he realized, been quite rational in his cogitations. Those children had also been grey-eyed. The normal interpretation of his statement, the interpretation that Renji had understood, had not occurred to him. Now, heart, mind and body rebelled against Renji's question. An involuntary shudder of denial began in his chest and thrummed through his frame.

Apparently, his response was satisfactory to Renji. The harsh expression eased, and Renji resumed his usual tones, though Byakuya could hear the underlying solemnity. "I told you before, you have too many scruples."

Then the voice turned bemused. "You nobles have the strangest hang-ups about children and descendants. Did you never think that children are a matter to be discussed between two people, not something you go off and decide on your own? It takes two after all. Sure, a child of my own would be nice, but only if it's your child as well."

At this point, the firm lips curved gently, the predator's grin held at bay. "But I also know that we need to remain childless more than we need to have children."

Once again, Byakuya's breathing hitched in his chest. This man sometimes terrified him with the depth of his acceptance and understanding. When Byakuya had made the decision to chart a new direction for the Kuchiki, he had accepted that he would never have children. His plans were too precarious for him to produce an heir of the body at any time. Even when the succession was settled far into the future, to do so would be to undermine the authority and legitimacy of his chosen heir and subject that heir to the threat of repudiation. The very existence of such a child would be a nexus for the ambitious and the unscrupulous within the clan.

"I owe you much more than an apology, Renji. I have known for the past decade that I would secure the future of my clan only at the cost of my own progeny. A price I was willing to pay, except that I have also doomed you to childlessness."

"Idiot." The admonition was affectionate. "Have you forgotten that I come from Rukongai? It's only you nobles who think of marriage, family and offspring in terms of true births. We from Rukongai make our own families." The grin finally returned to Renji's face. "Come to think of it, you've also been making your own family, for all that you're a Kuchiki. Haven't you chosen Rukia and me to be your family? And Ichigo's like a honorary idiotic younger brother too, living away from home but always stopping by, though the both of you will never admit to it." The grin widened as Byakuya directed a look of disdainful incredulity at Renji. "You don't have to look so pissy. Just proving a point."

"Perhaps you should prove it in a less distasteful manner."

Renji grew serious again. "You knew that Rukia and I were part of a gang. We lived together, stole together, survived together, and then we fell, one by one, to the knife. We didn't have parents or grandparents, but we learnt what it meant to be a family, the shared camaraderie and caring, the mutual protection. There was sorrow and difficulty, but also much laughter and joy." Renji's eyes turned distant. "I'll never forget the look on Rukia's face the day she managed to create a kidou sphere, and the teasing I got when mine fizzed."

The reminiscent look faded as Renji returned his attention to him. "Those years were brutal, but they are also precious in my memory because of the family I had. And now I have a new family in you. Can you accept that, Byakua? That we do not need children to be a family?"

Two months of needless anxiety, Byakuya reflected wryly. He closed his eyes briefly. He would require time and much meditation before this new reality settled into place, but for now, "Thank you, Renji. A timely reminder indeed. The nobles of Seireitei have always regarded the children of the clans as the bearers of our heritage and our memory, to the exclusion of all else. I had not thought beyond that."

"Clan memory, huh?" Renji turned contemplative and somber. "I don't know what it must be like to hold the memory of all your ancestors and for your own death not to be an end, but to be remembered by your descendants long into the future, especially for you." His eyes flicked towards Byakuya's kenseikan.

"Death's a lot simpler for me. If I had died in Rukongai, then Rukia might have buried me, or I might have been tossed into a beggar's grave. If the four of us hadn't made it through that Menos attack when I was an academy student, my name would have been on the student rolls, marked as killed in action, I suppose. And after I became a full shinigami, I would have been a notation in the Fifth or Eleventh division records." His eyebrows rose towards his hairline. "Strange, now that I think about it, that I'm the one who will be supervising those notations from now on. Abarai fukutaichou would have rated a plaque, I believe. And if I had died during the war, my name would have been one of the first on that great War Memorial outside the First Division." He shrugged.

"And now, my memorial will be a stone or marble plinth, as well as a full biography in the central Gotei Thirteen library and your Kuchiki archives. I wouldn't be surprised if Satoshi-san has already started on an outline, with copious notes containing his personal observations. And yet," Renji's speech slowed as he worked through his next thought, "I think I would be as satisfied with the simple mound and wooden marker that I made for my Rukongai family."

The gleaming red eyes looked intently into his grey ones. "I don't need to be buried next to you, though it would be nice to be remembered as your partner. But I have plans for our next life together, and our return to Soul Society when that is done."

Byakuya's mouth went dry. Renji had leapt ahead again. To know that Renji had placed his future in his hands so confidently was humbling. When had his trust in Byakuya become so absolute?

They had taken so many significant steps together in the past half a year, but perhaps the turning point had been the day they had discussed Hisana. She was a subject Byakuya had determined never to avoid with Renji. And that conversation, when it did occur, had become a cherished one in his recollections.

"She invoked the idealism of my youth and taught me that love was worthy of struggle. If she had lived, all our lives might have been very different."

Turning the pages of memory, Byakuya had continued, meditatively, "And yet, an emotion born of maturity is very different from a youthful one." Renji had looked startled, then strangely exultant, and Byakuya himself had marveled at the import, for both of them, of these words which had emerged so easily, when he had always weighed each syllable.

He was returned to the present by Renji's amused drawl. "You know, at least there's one thing we two don't have to worry about that might disrupt your Kuchiki succession—unplanned pregnancies." Such an abrupt change in subject left Byakuya blinking. But Renji had always scorned what he termed 'sappiness', especially in himself. And his statement, trite as it was, was certainly apposite. Any attempt to have a child would require extraordinary intervention. It was not impossible. Nemu, after all, had been cloned. Or a surrogate could be found who would carry a child to term. But no, it would not do to indulge his imagination in an untenable desire.

The corners of his lips lifted. Rare as true births were, their vigour might have overcome the odds had they been man and woman. But being as they were, such considerations were moot. His thoughts turned down a familiar path, and all at once, the pressing need to return to his residence filled him. Catching Renji's eye, he shifted into a smooth shunpo, Renji following him.

In his private rooms, the vague urgings he had felt crystallized into one clear thought. He had to demonstrate to Renji beyond a doubt that his confidence and trust were not misplaced, not during that turbulent time when he had offered his honour, not today when he had laid his future, all his futures, at Byakuya's feet. That Byakuya, too, placed his entire self in Renji hands. Including his pride.

"Renji." A quick look at his face, and a reply seemed to die on Renji's tongue. He placed two fingers on Renji's lips. _Allow me._ After a brief spell, Renji nodded. His eyes were curious, but open to any suggestion Byakuya might have and his usual restless energy lay at a low simmer.

Gently, Byakuya pressed Renji into a sitting position on the futon. Then he knelt on the tatami opposite Renji and holding his eyes, unwound his scarf, folded it and left it on the floor. A few tugs, and the kenseikan joined it. Combing his hair with his fingers, he swept it back. He would not let it curtain his face.

Next, the taichou's cloak fell in a silken puddle around him, and his hands had begun working on his hakama ties when Renji spoke, voice slightly hoarse. "Byakuya, you don't have to do this."

He allowed his lips to curl upwards in a faint smile. "I do."

"Then let me undress too."

"No. Please." At the 'please', Renji stilled, and examined Byakuya's expression once again. Then he shook his head ruefully. A smile touched his lips as he turned his palm over in acknowledgment.

Byakuya dealt with ties and obi and felt the hakama slide over his thighs with a soft swish. His hands met at the lapels of his shikahausho and he shrugged both black top and white undershirt off at the same time, allowing them to catch momentarily at his elbows while Renji sucked in a sharp breath, then drop to the floor.

Only the fundoshi was left. His eyes had never left Renji's face, drinking in each expression he saw. Renji's eyes were glimmering with wonderment and tenderness, and a burgeoning desire. He wondered what his own eyes held. With each article of clothing, the unclothing had become easier. He unwound the fundoshi. For a moment, he became an observer in the room, watching a wholly nude Byakuya exposed to a wholly clothed Renji. It pleased him, this image, for Renji had already clothed Byakuya with his past, his present and his future.

Then Byakuya returned to himself, and leaning forward, made short work of Renji's hakama ties, loosening them just sufficiently to fulfill his intentions. Shoving aside more layers, he reached his destination and filled his mouth with the flavour of Renji even while his hands did not remain idle. Above him, Renji's pants and gasps filled his ears and he could feel the calloused hands, usually so steady, tighten with scalding heat on his bare shoulders. Renji's scent swirled around him, ozone, metal and musk, and amusement tickled his chest as he recalled the first time he had tasted Renji. The other man had been so eager, yet almost ticklish from the newness of the sensation. Now, Renji was setting the rhythm for Byakuya.

When Renji at last groaned, "Byakuya, I can't…," he tightened his hands immediately, and heard Renji moan. Lifting his head from Renji, he reached into the small box beside the futon and extracted the vial of oil. Then resting on his haunches, he angled his torso to the side and began preparing himself in full view of his lover, his eyes engaged with Renji's suddenly arrested ones.

A mist of surreality seemed to cloud the scene at first, while his mind shied at the blatant actions of his body. And he could feel the red on his cheeks as every tenet of his upbringing twisted and cracked at the sensation of his own finger, at the light streaming around the screens, at the caress of the breeze on his nakedness. But by the time the second finger joined the first, the volcano in Renji's eyes had burnt away the mist, and turned his blood to lava. When the third finger slid in, Renji growled. "Enough." His sharp features were hard-edged and fiercely anticipatory. "Come here."

The proprietorial demand in Renji's voice scorched through every fibre of his body. Almost blindly, he stood up and took the last few steps, hips swaying as Renji's expression grew more marked. One hand on Renji's shoulder, he skimmed down his body, then found Renji again, and carefully seated himself on him. Renji's guttural groan echoed his own.

"Move." The harsh low rumble set his heart thumping and his hips angled forward. When Renji's hand trailed down his abdomen and reached for him, Byakuya caught it and shook his head. "No," he whispered. "Please leave it to me." Renji's expression softened momentarily, then heat flared in his eyes and he took Byakuya's mouth in a plundering, ravening kiss.

As their pace grew frenetic, every sensation and every emotion was amplified to a relentless clarity. Renji's uniform was erotically coarse against his skin, adding a layer of sensation as he ground against him, surrendering his silence, his pride and his austerity. Renji's arms were folded around him, anchoring them to each other. And as Byakuya ascended to the peak of sensation, Renji registered in all of his senses all at once for one brilliant moment. Then he fell into darkness.

When consciousness returned, a familiar tattooed chest met his sight. Raising his head, he saw the intimate smile that belonged to them alone, now softer than ever. A kiss landed on his nose, but all Renji said was, "Let me get you into the shower. Then I need to cook."

Renji's hands were brisk and efficient, and it seemed that neither of them felt the inclination for conversation. Toweled and dressed, Renji merely smiled again as he inclined his head towards the kitchen Byakuya had installed in their suite when Renji had moved in. "My engagement present," as Renji had slyly named it. Following Renji into the kitchen, he wondered what Renji would make. It always fascinated him to watch Renji wield knives a quarter the length of a sheathed Zabimaru and bend over pots and pans. Though Renji was not fond of spectators while he cooked, he invariably extended an invitation to Byakuya, though a coiling anticipation in his chest seemed to separate this occasion from previous ones.

The silence between them remained over the next hour as Renji cut and chopped in rapid and sure motion. It was not a truly companionable or comfortable silence, but neither was it tense or fraught. Rather, thought Byakuya as he tried to qualify it, it was contemplative and expectant, as if what he had begun between them earlier that afternoon still wanted some resolution. But he comprehended that the onus had passed to Renji.

Finally, when Renji had picked up the last flower from his preparation dish and was eyeing its placement thoughtfully, Byakuya found his voice. It emerged as his habitual calm monotone. "What name will you designate for this set?" Renji named his banquet sets and Byakuya had never seen this combination, the white of daikon and tofu, and the lighter shades of seafood, with darker shrimp and shellfish, all set off against dark seaweed. The busy hands paused, then carefully smoothed a pale bloom into the desired position. For a moment, silence returned to the kitchen. When Renji lifted his head, his crimson eyes were lambent and intent, and Byakuya's chest abruptly tightened. His eyes held captive, Renji's words, spoken with slow deliberation, resonated through him.

"'In the embrace of the moon'."


	13. Interlude Post Legacy

Title: Legacy Interlude

Characters: Renji, Byakuya (ByaRenBya)

Rating: M

Summary: Omake interlude to 7th part of Renji – Reflection.

Warning: Smut. Bawdy humour.

Disclaimer: Own no part of Bleach, not even bleach

A/N Sorry, gals. I was supremely uninspired but I managed to crank out these few by the skin of my teeth. My crack antennae need some readjustment.

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**Omake ****1 Reincarnation** For Matsumama, who wanted to see Byakuya sputter.

Renji lounged on the sofa, brow furrowed in thought, though from the quirk on his lips, Byakuya could tell that his thoughts consisted of nothing weighty.

He seated himself beside his partner and leaned forward to nip his ear. They were both off-duty, had no official and social obligations to attend to and his retainers knew better than to disturb them, unless the residence was burning. Maybe if the residence was burning.

"I should really ask Urahara if we're always reborn as the same sex."

Byakuya paused in mid-lick. "Dare I inquire?"

"Well, I was wondering what would happen if you were reborn as a woman?" Byakuya closed his eyes. Renji's brand of humour sometimes left much to be desired.

"Should I take insult?" His voice was flat, but Renji ignored the warning and went on. "I would look horrible as a woman, but you'd fit better, you know? You're built on more delicate lines than me."

Delicate? Byakuya's affront was expressed in the widening of his eyes. Briefly he considered summoning Senbonzakura and in that moment of inattention, he suddenly found himself straddling Renji's lap and staring into the wolfishly grinning face of his lover, the lout.

He stared down his nose at Renji, but the rogue's grin merely widened. Then he continued with mock seriousness, "But you know, I'd still want you to be reborn as a man."

In response, Byakuya lifted a haughty brow, ignoring the hands that were busy under his yukata.

"Otherwise," one eyelid dropped in a teasing wink, "I would still be able to do this." One hand slipped between his buttocks and rubbed suggestively, while the strong hips lifted against Byakuya's thighs. He shivered. "But you wouldn't be able to." A pause as Renji's fingers grew more daring. "Not without mechanical aids, anyway."

Byakuya choked.

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**Omake 2 Horse Tales II**

Renji sighed in contentment as he felt a nude body slide against him. "Hmmmm." Subconsciously, he made the usual familiar adjustments that would accommodate the two of them most comfortably.

Abruptly, his eyes shot open. He was not in their futon at the Kuchiki Residence but in the Fifth Division.

"Byakuya, what are you doing here?"

The calm, dry voice sounded in the vicinity of his neck. "I quote, 'Kuchiki Byakuya is my lover. We share a bed and have sex.'"

There was no worse combination than a nosy old man and a horny lover. "Ha, necessary but not sufficient, not when I'm pissed with you." He began to turn to face the other way, but the warm nude clung closer than wet silk.

After several ineffectual, though if the truth be admitted, rather half-hearted, attempts to dislodge his midnight visitor, Renji finally exhaled noisily in resignation. "Okay, okay, I agree to your terms, Mr. Stud. We share a bed." As a pair of lips latched happily on his collarbone, Renji shoved a hand between them to separate lips and collarbone, adding sternly,

"But no horsing around."

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**Omake 3 Oops**

Ichigo slid the door open and stuck his head in through the space. From the doorway, he could see the bundle on the bed, topped by a head of red curls.

"Oi, wake up, sleepyhead!" The bundle mumbled, then returned to silence.

Walking into the room, Ichigo bent down to shake the bundle awake. "Oi, you promised me breakfast if I ran that errand for you! Oi!"

There was some fumbling, and the bed clothes slid off Renji's naked back as the redhead mumbled into his pillow. "Byakyaa, just stick it in and let me sleep."

Ichigo was about to jump backwards, covering his face, when his attention was arresting by the 3 parallel trails of hickeys that ran down the length of Renji's back. Fascinated, he stuck out a finger to poke at a red welt. "Who would have thought the ice-block…"

Before he could finish the thought, a freezing reiatsu filled the room. Byakuya stood at the doorway to his bathroom, glaring at him. At the same time, Renji shot up from the futon, shouting, "Byakuya! Where's the danger?" His head met Ichigo's on the way up with a crack and the two men fell backward from the shock and the pain, Renji back on the futon, and Ichigo on the floor.

Swiftly, Byakuya crossed the room and flung the bedclothes on a groaning Renji, then frowned thunderously at Ichigo. "Kurosaki Ichigo, what do you think you are doing?"

Some imp of mischief, and Ichigo always swore thereafter that it was his Hollow, made him point to Renji and reply, "He told me to stick it in!" The look of outrage on the faces of both taichous was well worth the price of entry.

Zaraki Kenpachi grinned as a familiar blur of orange sped by. "Oi, Ichigo!" The words had scarcely left his mouth when a black blur went past, followed soon after by a red blur. He decided to join in the game, whatever it was. Ichigo, Kuchiki-hime and Renji were always good for a fight.


	14. Epilogue

Title: Epilogue

Characters: Byakuya, Renji and various Kuchiki OCs

Rating: PG-13/T

Summary: 8th and final part of Renji – Reflection.

Warning: Erm… solemn fluff?

Disclaimer: Own no part of Bleach, not even bleach

A/N I'm done! I'm done! gibbers Thank to you all who have read this story and an especial thanks to those of you who have supported me with your comments. You know who you are! I'm done! I'm done!

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Kuchiki Senzo walked through the series of connecting rooms, closing partitions as he checked off each space that had been restored by the Kuchiki household staff to its usual uncluttered order. The evening was advanced, and a glow of accomplishment settled on him as he reflected that the day had passed without incident. Not that his master Kuchiki Byakuya would have allowed anything to mar the occasion where he and Abarai Taichou made public pledges of their eternal and mutual fidelity.

In view of Kuchiki clan sensibilities, they had decided on something called a civil union. As far as Senzo could tell, the main difference between a civil union and a marriage lay not so much in the promises the two men made to each other, but in the fact that Abarai Taichou would not take the Kuchiki name. Nor were the Kuchikis required to offer their pledges of fealty to him as the spouse and consort of the Kuchiki clan head. As such, he could not call on the resources of the Kuchiki family were Kuchiki Byakuya not present. However, Senzo had no doubt that he would be accorded all the marks of respect due to the Kuchiki consort. His master would insist on it.

Furthermore, as far as his master was concerned, this ceremony would put a period to the proposals for remarriage. Conducted in the presence of witnesses and by a duly authorized official of the Gotei Thirteen, it effectively bound Kuchiki Byakuya and Abarai Renji to each other in the eyes of the law. Senzo wondered how his master had managed to pull off that tricky legal maneuver, though it did not surprise him.

As his longtime retainer, Senzo knew how single-minded his master could be. When those cold grey Kuchiki eyes rested on a goal they deemed worthy, their owner moved with relentless momentum, towing the entire clan in his wake. This was not the first instance of that determination that Senzo had witnessed.

More than half a century ago, Kuchiki Byakuya had decided that love was more important than tradition and, in the process, he had chosen to injure the pride of the clan in its pursuit. Yet, it had been undermined at the same time by his own sense that he had abjured his duty. Senzo had always reprehended the early death of his mistress and the further scars it had laid on his master's understanding of what he owed to the clan. Her presence had balanced love and duty, and had been a grace in his life that had armoured him against all the expectations of the clan, her absence allowed the clamour of the clan to penetrate. In the end, despite his early repudiation of tradition and duty, they had claimed him in a tighter vice than ever. In the void of love lost, he had sought to repair what he had seen as his dereliction of duty and, for five decades, grief had frozen him in an ancient and immovable pride.

Then had come the young lady's detention and sentencing, and his master had grown at once colder and more haunted, scarcely able to face the deceased mistress' shrine when it had once given him some measure of peace. That unsettling time had culminated in his master's sojourn in the Fourth Division, which had left his household and clan in an uproar until the news of his recovery was confirmed.

On his return, however, Senzo had perceived a withdrawal of his master's glacial frigidity. It was as if a dragon had awoken from hibernation and was looking about him for the first time in years, its intent interest barely masked by the stern and impassive cast of its countenance. And as his object of curiosity, he had chosen the affairs, structure and history of the Kuchiki clan. Senzo had collected ledgers and records and histories for his master, and wondered where it would all lead. He never forgot that his current master was a man who had once loved and married a woman from Rukongai and attempted to claim an autonomy from the established practices of the clan.

And so he had watched and waited, and in the past year, that streak of independence Kuchiki Byakuya had exhibited more than fifty years ago had resurfaced with a vengeance. It had pushed the clan in directions it had hitherto not suspected. Yet, though his master's proposals left his heart pumping with trepidation at the reaction of the clan, so ambitious and far-reaching they were, any attempt to break the ossification of the clan met with his approval. He had been born a Kuchiki, but he regarded himself as a workingman first and foremost, of whom daily effort was required in order for the residence to run smoothly. In like manner, he believed the clan needed to renew its purpose and find its proper work in order to hold its head high.

He even understood the reason for his master's wish to choose a worthy successor in place of an heir of the body. As a steward who commanded his own small contingent of subordinates, he had been trained to use each man according to his appropriate talents, and surely, more than anything, the leadership of the clan required the person whose talents were most suited to it.

To Senzo's mind, this Kuchiki Byakuya who had transformed duty into the conviction that would risk the clan's current peace for its future was the leader who could most ideally answer the needs of the clan in the present generation. Yet, Senzo, who had given his personal loyalty to Kuchiki Byakuya for more than a century, did not wish for his lord merely the comfort of cold duty. His mistress, during her brief lifetime, had soothed his burdens even as she had been one of them, and her death had meant a solitary half-century for him.

Now, by some twist of fate, his lord had found at his side an Abarai Renji who had become necessary to him as his support and the abode of his soul. Senzo had laughed at himself when overtaken by this poetic whimsy. But even old as he was, the rapport between his master and Abarai Taichou could make a sentimental fool of him. Sixty years after his first essay, his master had somehow arrived at that most felicitous accommodation of love and duty that he had not managed to accomplish that first time.

Senzo remembered the hot-tempered, rash young Kuchiki Byakuya, so different from the present contained and controlled Kuchiki-sama. Recent events had confirmed his belief that all that youthful impetuosity had merely been bottled up rather than erased, and once every half a century, it would be released in a spectacular display that would leave all in the vicinity reeling, each release growing in exponential power. But he had high hopes that Abarai Taichou would prove the means for a controlled catharsis over time, as the thought of another outburst in five or six decades left him shaking with dread despite the manifest benefits, given the effects of this particular venting.

It was uncanny, mused Senzo, the decades-long connections between the Kuchiki siblings and Abarai Renji. Senzo had made Abarai Taichou's acquaintance when he had been appointed his master's fukutaichou. But he had known of Abarai Renji long before that. His name had been conspicuous in the investigative report Senzo had prepared for his master when he had decided to adopt Kuchiki Rukia into the Kuchiki clan. Denizen of Inuzuri, thief, gang member, shinigami-in-training—his life a litany of sordid and petty criminality, Abarai Renji had been the newly adopted daughter of the clan's last link to her lowly beginnings, and one her noble Kuchiki brother was determined to excise from her life. So Senzo thought no more of that name, until the day its bearer had appeared at the door in the guise of his master's new fukutaichou and rung a faint bell in Senzo's mind.

Senzo had watched him, this brazenly confident and energetic young man whose origins had been so contemptible, but who had climbed so high. In turn, the fukutaichou had watched Kuchiki Rukia with puppy-like devotion, an expression that would turn into an admixture of longing, envy, resentment and wistfulness whenever her brother appeared in the offing to speak with his sister. Over the years, however, fondness and exasperated resignation became more frequent visitors to his bold features, and Senzo noted that both taichou and fukutaichou would exchange looks that agreed on their incomprehension of female foibles and their wry acceptance of the same.

As for his master, it was manifestly clear to Senzo that his master regarded his fukutaichou in the light of a protégé whose career he would nurture, a protégé who nonetheless harboured an odd combination of hero-worship, respect, distrust and resentment for his would-be mentor. But as the so-called Winter War wore on, they seemed to evolve a truer partnership than that described by their nominal ranks. The Kuchiki residence became a base away from a base, to which Kuchiki Byakuya and Abarai Renji repaired from battlefield after battlefield battered and bloody, but unbowed in their shared invulnerability. Sometimes, they would be accompanied by members of their division, or the ranking officers of other divisions. The Substitute Shinigami was a frequent visitor. There, they would recover, review the battle, receive new orders, plan strategy, and then return to the battlefield without looking back. Senzo, left behind to hold fort, would ready the residence for their next reappearance. It had felt like an unbearable cycle then as he had awaited the outcome of each battle with bated breath, never knowing when and how they would return, but finally, the impasse had been broken by victory and the Gotei Thirteen had settled into reconstruction.

And one day, Senzo had noticed an increased abstraction on his master's part. In anyone else, Senzo would have called it daydreaming, and he was reminded of the time his master had fallen in love with his late mistress. It puzzled him, this sudden inattenion, for he knew his master had no new associations, nor were there any changes in his daily habits as there had been during the time he was wooing his wife. So when Abarai Renji had walked through the door, insouciant as ever, eyes clear and shrewd, his power held with a new ease that spoke of conviction and control, and his master's gaze had been instantly riveted, Senzo had fought to keep his face politely expressionless, even while his brain had scrambled to catch up. A man? And Kuchiki Byakuya? All his ingrained Kuchiki prejudices had shuddered for a long moment at the idea.

And yet, as he watched the curiosity and tentative hope that marked this new stage in their relationship, he reflected that his master had lived in a solitary fastness for far too long. For those who cared for him, any sign of returning life should be eagerly heralded and celebrated. His master had mourned half a century a conjugal happiness he had only known for half a decade, and, without the presence of his beloved wife to leaven his days, had borne his duty with nobility and stoicism. Surely he was due some new source of grace in his life.

And it was not as if he had not noticed his master's gaze snag over shining crimson hair and that glistening white grin in the past. But since Kuchiki Byakuya had not allowed his eyes to dwell, Senzo had made nothing of it. The fukutaichou, after all, was strikingly attractive with his bold masculine features and lean height.

So when his master had returned late one night, uniform tattered and blood-streaked, his usual impassivity belied by the luminous pale grey of his eyes and the puffiness of his lips, Senzo had only shaken his head at the strangeness of shinigami habits. Who else fought with real zanpakutou to the point of injury, then kissed with genuine passion, and looked so happy about it all? Perhaps Abarai Taichou was truly his master's soulmate, after all.

Since that night, Senzo had had ample opportunity to observe the conduct of their courtship. They were seldom apart, and much of their time off-duty was spent in the Kuchiki residence, especially after Abarai Taichou left the Sixth Division to take up his duties in the Fifth. Senzo knew that the Fifth Division Taichou was deep in his master's confidence concerning the affairs of the Kuchiki clan, but such matters aside, they did not tire of each other's company. They sparred together in the Kuchiki training grounds, zanpakutou flashing with lethal and terrifying speed, and worked on Division papers in the study, each man with his own pile, with Abarai Taichou cracking the occasional sly joke or grumbling at his pile. They ate together, usually at the residence, either meals prepared by Shouka, the Kuchiki chef, or by Abarai Taichou himself, who, after a patient coaxing, had managed to warm Shouka to him. His master no longer took solitary walks but roamed with Abarai Taichou in the Kuchiki gardens in the moonlight, sometimes disappearing into its shadows. They conversed with each other on any topic which might occur to them, Abarai Taichou occasionally speaking two sentences for every sentence uttered by his more taciturn master. Senzo had been amazed at some of the conversations he had overheard. And yet, despite all the proximity, their relationship had been strangely decorous at the beginning. Until the second turn of the seasons, they never shared a bed.

Despite his abhorrence of any prurient interest, Senzo had found himself pondering the matter. Both were men in their prime, and his master was a widower. And, as his young lady had mentioned, when she delivered three chests and instructions for Abarai Taichou's first night in the Kuchiki residence into his keeping, "It has been extremely uncomfortable to be around them, isn't it? But we'll just have to make it right for them." The tension had been almost palpable between the two, and Senzo knew that his master's night and bedclothes had also become singularly disordered. Yet, their care and patience obscurely eased his anxieties.

The weekend the chests had been used, Senzo had politely but firmly refused entry to all visitors to the residence. But he had not been sure what to think when both men had finally emerged limping from the master's suite. He had not expected that his master would… Perhaps that was a thought better strangled at birth.

For his master's sake, Senzo had accepted and welcomed Abarai Taichou. As the household steward of the Kuchiki main family, his duties were to provide a restful setting for the domestic life of the lord of the clan, and while Abarai Taichou was certainly not the most calming influence, his presence in Kuchiki Byakuya's life completed it. For that, he would always have Senzo's gratitude and service, as well as that of like-minded Kuchikis. The welfare of the Kuchiki main family was his responsibility, and he had served ably for over a century. But it was only after that disastrous day when Kuchiki had turned against Kuchiki that Senzo had realized how deep his personal loyalties ran and that Abarai Taichou stood very high in them.

When his master's reiatsu had exploded through the residence, Senzo had felt as if a thousand blades were pressing on his throat and chest, a sensation so unpleasant that oblivion beckoned. Then, a heartbeat later, the feeling was abruptly muted. The sensation of hovering blades remained, but now Senzo could suppress the churning in his stomach and think. He recognized Abarai Taichou's reiatsu wrapped about his master's, shielding all of the residence from its worst effects, and he had wanted to run to his master's suite. But all around him, the other retainers had fallen like flies, and Senzo had to gather his wits together to take command, ordering the guards to lay everyone out comfortably, even while he fretted about his master.

When the blades had finally withdrawn, to the relief of all, though the ominous pressure that bore on the residence still remained, Abarai Taichou had appeared, his face strained and worried, carrying a bundle in his arms, to check on the state of the household and reassure the staff. One glance, and Senzo understood what had happened. Abarai Taichou's mind was obviously on his master, and Senzo could feel the suspended weight of his reiatsu in a controlled pool around him, but as his eyes swept and evaluated the household's situation and his lips spoke the words to comfort Senzo and the rest, he saw for the first time the man who had partnered his master on the battlefield and won a white taichou's cloak for his efforts. His master wore his authority like a mantle, but this man, easier in his manners, yet so brash and so confident, revealed his only in a crisis.

Both men had not reappeared till the next day, but the pressure had eased sufficiently after Abarai Taichou's return to the master's suite for the household to recover for the night, though the atmosphere remained uneasy. Senzo was unsurprised. He had served two bankai-level Kuchiki masters at close quarters, but he had never realized how deadly they were. All of Soul Society knew of Kuchiki Byakuya's Senbonzakura, but those who understood even what a shikai with a thousand blades truly meant were far and few between. Oddly enough, the thought of two taichous in residence now comforted rather than appalled him. They would be shield enough for each other and for those within their ambit, he had discovered. _And each other's sheath_, his mind supplied. But he valiantly sidled away from that particular thought.

Shouka, the Kuchiki chef, had summed up that terrifying day in his own unique idiom. "I have always thought that it was impossible that a man with his hands not be a chef," he had said, "but now I thank every god there is that he is a taichou." The first time Abarai Taichou had visited the Kuchiki kitchens, he had, by a vigorous application of charm and persuasiveness, secured Shouka's permission to use the kitchen on his next visit. That was the first time Senzao had learnt that Abarai Taichou liked to cook. But Shouka was a touchy man, and an impatient and hard taskmaster, and Senzo had expressed his doubts to his master, who had merely closed his eyes and replied that there was no need for concern. Abarai Tahcou's charm had not faltered on his second visit, and he had carried on an intricate discussion with Shouka even while he cooked. When Senzo had asked Shouka how he rated Abarai Taichou's efforts, the chef had merely shaken his head sadly. Thereafter, there was always a warm welcome for Abarai Taichou in the Kuchiki kitchens. Abarai Taichou's tactful handling of Shouka had been one of the reasons Senzo had warmed towards him.

Returning to the present, he checked the security settings and proceeded to the master's suite to report before retiring for the night. Tapping at the door, he was surprised at the instruction to enter. Easing the door open, he could see his master and Abarai Taichou kneeling at the low table, a bottle of sake between them. They had apparently been chatting all this time. Despite the lateness of the hour, they were both still in their dark formal kimono, his master's adorned with the crests of the Kuchiki with a pure white collar visible above the collar of his kimono, while Abarai Taichou's bore the insignia of the Fifth Division, with a deep magenta collar that set off his hair. They were both men, as Abarai Taichou had pointed out, and would dress appropriately for their gender. No futile fight over bridal colours or anything like that, despite Kuchiki Rukia's suggestion that Abarai Taichou wore bridal gold and red.

Though both men had discarded their haoris, and his master his scarf and kenseikan as well, Senzo heaved an inward sigh of relief. He had expected that his report would be made under the most embarrassing of circumstances on this day of all days. One ventured into these rooms at one's own risk these days. As reserved as his master was in public and in other parts of the house, one was likely to find him heavily mussed or even half dressed in these rooms at odd times. Senzo had taken to discreetly leaving plain robes in every room of the suite and in limiting the number of household staff who were allowed in these rooms. Things had been quite different with his late mistress, but given her health, that was quite unexceptionable.

His report made, Senzo sought his bed with a grateful sigh. The two men in the master's suite possessed all the vigour of their youth and high reiatsu levels, and would probably remain awake into the early hours of the morning if their state of dress were any indication. But for an old man like him, he needed his rest after this most eventful day and if he was to face the next day of these most interesting times with all his faculties intact. Like never before, the household steward to the head of the Kuchiki clan needed to keep his wits about him.

Senzo had served three generations of the Kuchiki main family, but it was only in this generation that the Kuchiki clan had experienced so much upheaval. To his mind, the clan had only itself to blame. One did not called one's clan leader the strongest leader in clan history without anticipating some form of disruption in the easy existence of the clan. After all, strong men were seldom comfortable ones as well.

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The End, for now.


	15. Interlude Post Epilogue

Title: Epilogue interlude

Characters: Byakuya, Renji and their crowd

Rating: PG-13/T

Summary: Omake to Legacy, 8th and final part of Renji – Reflection.

Warning: Crack??

Disclaimer: Own no part of Bleach, not even bleach

A/N I loved writing these, hope you enjoy them!

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**Omake 1 Horse Tales III**

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A tiny chuckle sounded in the stillness of the night. If Renji had not been so attuned to Byakuya, he would never even have recognized the sound.

"Now what?" he demanded mulishly. He was sulking, but if you couldn't sulk in front of your own lover, where else could you indulge in such a fashion?

"I apologize for referring to the fact that I am a stallion and a stud." The voice was dryly amused. "Now may I make love to you?"

"Some apology you're making." Renji frowned as an elegant hand skimmed down his abdomen and stopped above his groin. Despite himself, he could feel his stomach muscles flex. "Think you're so smooth, huh?"

The only reply was the soft, deliberate exhalation across his ear. The hand remained a warm and expectant weight on his skin. Silence enveloped the room once again.

Finally, Renji sighed. "I'm an idiot, aren't I? You're here, I'm here, we're both naked and willing, and I'm saying no to sex?"

A huff of agreement sounded in the vicinity of his neck, followed by a wet tongue tracing his collarbone.

"I'm so whipped, you know? You'd better not be making any more horse jokes though."

Teeth tugged at his lower lip, followed by a barely whispered, "Nay."

"Byakuya, I swear ummph…umm… ahh…"

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**Omake 2 Sisters!**

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Rukia perched on the armchair, eyes demurely lowered, hands clutching a beautifully wrapped parcel. Across from her, Renji snorted. He had learnt the hard way to distrust that look of faked innocence. Beside him, Byakuya stirred.

"What brings you home so early, Rukia? We did not expect you till tomorrow morning."

"Yes, Nii-sama. I concluded my assignment earlier than expected so I decided to return before nightfall."

A brief pause, then Rukia spoke again. "I hope that my return finds Nii-sama well."

"Thank you, Rukia." Renji snorted again. He knew that Byakuya liked such rituals, but Rukia had only been away for a week. And there was something about Rukia's demeanor this time that had all his internal alarms ringing.

She was speaking again. "If you will forgive my impertinence, Nii-sama, I have been somewhat concerned lately." She looked at Renji. "Renji, too."

Huh? Despite himself, Renji began wondering if something was wrong with Rukia. "Rukia, are you all right?"

She frowned at him. "Why shouldn't I be? I was asking about you!"

"That's why I asked!" He glanced at Byakuya, who was calmly listening to them. "There's nothing wrong with Byakuya or me, as far as I know, so I thought you had hurt your head or something."

"Renji!" Her voice had recovered its bossy tone. Then her voice returned to its former respectful cadences as she looked at Byakuya. "Forgive me, Nii-sama. It is a delicate matter to raise, but I hope that you will accept this gift with my most humble wishes." She placed the parcel on the table.

Renji looked suspiciously at the parcel. It was unusual for Rukia to present a gift with such rigmarole. Byakuya was thanking Rukia, who had gotten up to leave. She was already at the door when Renji spoke, "Oi, Rukia, you haven't explained what this parcel is."

Her hand on the door, Rukia bowed deeply and spoke. "My apologies, Nii-sama, Renji, but you will understand when you open the parcel. I have noticed that the both of you have appeared less discommoded in your movements recently."

"And that's a bad thing?" But Rukia had disappeared.

Renji exchanged a glance with Byakuya. "I guess you had better open it," he said gloomily. "Or we'll never hear the end of it."

The package revealed a blue and white box which Byakuya held in his hands while Renji read the folded printout that had come with it.

"Why, the little…!" Wordlessly, he handed Byakuya the printout. His partner's eyes widened as he read, then narrowed in a frown. Almost gingerly, he placed the box down on the table in front of them. Both of them stared at it for several speechless minutes.

Finally, Renji spoke, his teeth gritted. "Byakuya, I'm going to strangle her… Discommoded in our movements, the little… What does she mean by that… Just because we haven't been limping…!"

A hand on his stopped the tirade. "I am gratified that she does not considered us utterly decrepit."

Renji turned his head. There was a gleam in Byakuya's eyes. Apparently, Renji's outrage had tickled his humour.

"I understand that 25 milligrams is the smallest dose." The gleam deepened. "A hundred milligrams would have been insulting."

He picked up the box easily and turned it over. Immediately, a chill came over the room. Renji looked down and saw "Kurosaki" listed as the prescribing physician.

"That…!" He was going to bankai the crap out of Ichigo the next time he saw him.

A knock sounded at the door and an orange head peered in. "Hey, guys, have you seen Rukia?"

Zaraki Kenpachi grinned as orange, red and black streaked past him. He didn't understand what was going on, but things were sure getting interesting since Kuchiki-hime had shacked up with Renji. The last time, Ichigo had been laughing madly, this time, he was hollering, "What did I do? What did I do?" as he ran. Zaraki, too, took off at a run.

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**Omake 3 When I'm 64**

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"Say, Byakuya," Renji began, "do you think there'll come a time when we'll need those blue pills of Rukia's?" They were lying in a sweaty heap on their futon, limp with relaxation. After they had returned from a strenuous fight with Ichigo and Zaraki, Renji had insisted that they prove Rukia wrong, as many times as they could.

Byakuya shifted slightly and moaned. Fortunately, they were both off-duty the next day. "I do not imagine that we will need to have recourse to them for a very long time," he murmured.

Renji continued in the same line of thought. "I read somewhere that human males hit their peak at 18, and then it's all downhill after that. Of course, we live much longer, but we're definitely not 18 anymore. So we're actually on a downward slope."

Byakuya set his hand on Renji's chest. "Permit me to prove you wrong once I have recovered."

"That's what I mean! We're already talking about recovery periods at our age!"

Byakuya closed his eyes. "Renji," he said patiently, "everyone has a recovery period."

"I know that, but we've never needed to mention them before." Renji glanced at Byakuya's arched eyebrow. "Okay, we've never tried to deliberately marathon sex after a fight with Kenpachi either." His white grin flashed. "Just so you know, Byakuya, I'm going to store up lots and lots of memories, just in case."

The thin, elegant mouth tilted upwards. "It will be my pleasure."

bOmake 4 With your compliments/b

Renji folded his arms as he watched Rukia run towards him. It was his first sight of her after the parcel incident.

"Rukia," he growled. The midget didn't even have the grace to blush when she saw him. Instead, she stood, arms akimbo and stared at him challengingly. "What?"

"I can't believe you gave us those pills. We nearly pounded Ichigo into the ground before we cleared things up."

A cunning grin crossed her face. "Ichigo isn't the only Kurosaki who can sign a prescription."

"So he pointed out." Renji snorted. "But don't expect me to thank you for those tablets."

Rukia's face turned mock sad. "But don't you appreciate my caring, generous gesture?" Then she grinned up at him, "So, did you try them out?"

Renji shook his head and started walking away. "Oh, no, they don't work if you don't have a problem to begin with. But waste not, want not. Byakuya and I just rewrapped the parcel and left it for Kyouraku, with your compliments."


End file.
